Heritage
by winter s. jameson
Summary: During the usual midsummer slump, the guys are called out to Nebraska to try to put an end to an ancient family curse. But then they find out that there could be a deeper personal connection for them, making it all the more important to stop the demon before it succeeds in getting its way.
1. Chapter 1

_It's been quite a while since I put this together, intending it for a fanzine that ended up not being published. But when I recently pulled it out and dusted it off I found I was still really proud of it - and that I really wanted to share it. So here you go, everyone, part one. Enjoy, and feel free to let me know what you think!_

* * *

Felicia Atkinson wandered around her medium-sized two-story house, letting her eyes fall on the many memories she had collected throughout the building over the past thirty-five years. The fact that it was three o'clock in the morning disturbed her, but she knew there was no way she would be getting back to sleep anytime soon. Her nightmare had more than insured that.

The silver-haired woman made her way down the stairs and into the living room, moonlight spilling in from the large picture window that dominated the southern wall. That same light sparkled off the picture frames that abounded on the dark walnut mantle along the western side of the room. She gathered one into her weather-worn, yet vigorous hands from its place tucked behind the majority of those displayed. It was an old snapshot, a bit frayed around the edges and yellowed with age, but the image of a small boy wearing a mischievous, gap-toothed grin was quite well preserved. His hand was buried in a cookie jar, and he was looking over his shoulder at the photographer as though he may have been caught, but he thought he could still get out of trouble.

"Oh, my boy," Felicia murmured as she stroked the tiny face, her brown eyes sparkling with unshed tears. "I'd say I wish you were here, but I don't. Not if these dreams continue." She took a deep breath and turned over the frame, gently prying open the back to uncover an old newspaper clipping of a picture of a young man and woman on their wedding day, smiling at the camera in complete bliss. A short, hand-scrawled note on the back stated plainly, "I'm not sure if I'm right, but I saw the last name and I had to send it to you. I hope this helps. Lorraine."

The old woman stared at it for a few minutes before gathering the strength to put it away. Just as she had the backing in place once more, a creak of the floorboards reached her ears while a gust of wind blew past her legs, causing a shiver to fly up her spine. "Who's there?" she demanded, spinning around to face the perceived threat.

There was no one there.

Felicia's eyes narrowed suspiciously as she began to head toward where the breeze had come from, anger beginning to boil in her veins. "I can't believe anyone would _dare_ come into my house!" she griped under her breath. She continued to complain in a snarling whisper as her path took her to the front door, which was oddly standing open. Without a moment's hesitation Felicia stepped onto her front porch, her eyes blind to the open expanse of green plains that stretched toward the horizon, the pre-morning dew glistening in the soft silver light of the moon.

There she stopped cold. Standing before her was terror made flesh, a figure she had only seen in her dreams. It was humanoid in shape, about six and a half feet tall, and completely cloaked in shadows. Evil emanated from every square inch of the creature, and deep violet eyes glowed menacingly from its barely discernible face. It stood firmly at the base of her porch steps, and its eyes burned into the woman's soul. "Felicia," it hissed, the sibilant sound coming from nowhere and everywhere all at once. "I come for you to finish your family's bargain. I will take your soul and spare the rest."

Finally recovering the ability to breathe, Felicia straightened to her full height and stared defiantly back. "You tricked my ancestor into that bargain. And as long as I die free of you, you will not get the power you long for. So take that and stuff it up your tailpipe!"

A growl filled the air, shaking the house behind the two antagonists to its foundations. "If you will not freely give me your soul I will have your blood! I will have the bargain fulfilled!"

"Your bargain wouldn't stand up in the most corrupt court of law," Felicia snapped back. "It may almost be my time, but I _will_ stop this once and for all, you just watch me!"

"Will you now?" the now-smooth voice responded, the way its tone touched her senses making the older woman feel somewhat violated. "I think you will try, and _he_ will pay my price." A shadowy hand rose and gestured to the picture frame Felicia still unknowingly held.

Brown eyes dropped to the image of the little boy. "No," she choked out. "You will not have my son."

"Or perhaps someone else from his line. The blood would still be as sweet."

Slight confusion flew through the fear-filled but still-determined gaze. "No!" she threw back. "I _will_ stop you! You will not take my family! This stops here and now!"

The glowing violet orbs bore into her in silence for a seemingly endless moment. "You think you are the only one to try. Foolish mortal. I will have what I desire in the end. I always do." The cowl-covered head tilted to the side in contemplation. "But I believe you may be right in one thing. This will stop. This will end. I have had enough of your line's futile resistance." The lavender light that had filled the woman's vision even more so than the full moon's beams dimmed slightly as the creature appeared to close its eyes in concentration. Before the mistress of the house could adjust her sight to the natural light the purple brilliance returned along with a rippling chuckle that caused a cold shiver to travel not only up her spine but through her soul. "The game ends soon, my dear. They'll be coming soon. Now sleep tight, Felicia. I'll be seeing you again." The evil full-blown laughter again filled the air, and the shadow dispersed as through blown away by the wind, leaving only echoes of the soul-twisting sound behind.

Felicia stumbled back into the house, somehow managing to close the door before eventually collapsing onto her living room couch. She could not tear her eyes away from the smiling child, or her thoughts from the suspicions that arose anew due to the words of the demon that had made a pact with a long-ago ancestor. She considered her options as she brought herself under control once again. There was one call she could make, one call that could bring her the help and expertise she would need to make her family safe for the generations to come. Felicia really couldn't see any other choice. If only she wasn't so afraid of the consequences...

* * *

Winston Zeddemore trudged into the firehall about midafternoon dressed in sweaty old clothes and a pair of tennis shoes. Janine Melnitz looked up from her computer and did a double take at the sight of the black man as he made his way toward her, swiping an arm across his damp forehead as he walked. "What in the world did you do? Move the whole house?" she asked in her Brooklyn accent, the corners of her mouth twitching slightly.

"Feels like it," Winston replied, immediately shifting his weight to sit on the corner of the desk when he reached it. "I really think Noah owes me for this one. He really does."

"I seem to recall one Ghostbuster volunteering for the task of moving his favorite nephew into his new room as long as there weren't any calls," the redheaded woman reminded him, the twitching turning into a full-fledged grin. "So don't give me this 'he owes me one' crap. He wasn't even going to ask."

The seated man chuckled. "You got me, little lady. Noah said as much when we stopped for lunch. He said he wouldn't have asked because we never know when the next big call's gonna come in. That of course started another question-answer period about what we've been doing lately. It was a lot of fun talking about it with someone outside it all, actually."

Thin red eyebrows rose over wide sapphire blue eyes. "Wow, he sounds really interested in the business. How's he doing at school, anyway?"

"Really well, actually. He said he's been picking up books about parapsychology lately and started to read them." Winston smiled proudly. "He said I'm the one who inspired that."

Janine laughed. "I think he wants to follow in your footsteps, Winston. How neat!"

The man shrugged. "Maybe, maybe not. But it would feel pretty good if he did. Next best thing to having a kid of my own."

"And it's not like that's not a possibility anymore. Especially if this relationship with Barbara continues the way it has been." She wiggled her eyebrows.

"We'll have to see about that. But for now, there's a nice, long, hot shower with my name on it waiting for me. Talk to you later, Janine." Winston smiled and headed for the stairs.

* * *

Once he was showered, dried, and changed, Winston drifted by the lab where Ray Stantz and Egon Spengler were once again lost in one of their esoteric experiments. The older man paused in the doorway, smiling at the sight of the lower half of the first sticking out of the innards of a large new contraption while the tall, bespectacled blond examined every outer nook and cranny, jotting down notes onto a pad of paper attached to a clipboard. "Is that connection secure, Raymond?" the blond man asked, pausing briefly in his study of the device. He pushed his red-rimmed glasses back into place with a long finger.

"Just another second," the other man responded, his voice muffled by the machine. Winston could still hear the edge of excitement in the words. "There!" Ray scrambled carefully out of the apparatus and ran a hand through his slightly disheveled short red hair. "Oh, hey, Winston! Back from helping Noah?" the engineer asked with a wide smile, noticing his friend out of the corner of his eye.

"Yep," Winston replied, walking into the lab proper as Egon turned to face him as well. "I never thought you could fit quite so much stuff in a single room, in the attic or not. What Frank needs is elevators."

"Considering what you've said about your brother's attitude about money, I highly doubt that will be happening any time in the near future, Winston," Egon said with a slight twitch of his lips as Ray laughed.

"I mean, I still remember the fit he threw when you suggested he make the attic into another bedroom to begin with," Ray agreed. "And that was after your dad offered to do it for free."

Winston nodded and decided to change the subject. "So what are you two working on in here?"

"This is a new device designed to be able to detect smaller dimensional openings and track down any entities that may have entered our world using such a portal. You see, the device would scan a certain radius and identify supernatural beings with a similar energy signature as that of the dimensional gate, suggesting it crossed over at that point. We can then track them down and assess their threat to the world at large."

Ray began bouncing at Egon's explanation. "We're hoping this will give us more warning when something big's about to cross over, like Gozer or Proteus. And we might even be able to stop something like that if we catch it fast enough. This is going to be great!"

Winston chuckled. "If it works the way you want it to, it probably will be great. How far along are you?"

"We've just started putting together the prototype, and even that's not completed yet, as you can see," the physicist replied, gesturing at the half-finished machine. "But things are moving along smoothly, thanks to our traditional slump at this time of year."

At that, Ray sighed. "Yeah. I can't wait for things to start up again. By next month I'm sure we'll barely have time to even _think_ about this project, much less work on it. It's gonna be so much fun!" He laughed at the sight of his two friends rolling their eyes at his enthusiasm. "Oh, admit it, you two. You're looking forward to more busts just as much as I am."

"I don't think _anyone_ could look forward to anything as much as you do, Ray," Winston said with a shake of his head and a fond smile. "But I will admit to looking forward to some work. It's getting kind of dull around here."

"I concur," Egon said. "Although I am quite pleased with the progress we've been able to make on this project. I've been wanting to start it for some time now."

"And the prototype's not finished yet?" Winston asked in mock surprise. "I would have thought with that kind of wait the two of you would be working non-stop to get something ready before our next rush."

Egon cleared his throat and put down his clipboard to clean his glasses. "Well, after the combing down we got from Peter the last time we rushed through a project we really wanted to get done, we figured we better take our time this time," Ray explained with a rueful grin. "I don't think we could afford to replace all the windows again so soon."

"I can see that," Winston said as he somehow managed to suppress a chuckle at the abashed looks the two scientists wore. "It's only been, what? Six, seven months? And right before Christmas. Pete was _not_ a happy camper."

"While I could certainly understand the reasoning behind his agitated state, I still don't believe it was quite necessary to lecture us for two hours in what remained of the lab. The wind was quite biting, if I recall correctly." Egon drew himself up to his full height as he spoke and replaced his eyewear.

Now Winston laughed. "So _that's_ what took you guys so long and why the lab doors were locked for all that time. I thought I heard some raised voices, but with the wind blowing I couldn't be sure. That also explains why he wouldn't talk to either one of you for the next three days. I don't know how your aunt Lois put up with us, Ray. I really don't."

"She refused to let us stay at a hotel, especially since it was only going to be for a week. I just couldn't tell her no. I did apologize for us, though. She just said that she was glad Peter had gotten all the yelling out of his system. The silent treatment she could handle."

"Speaking of Pete, where is he? I don't think I saw him on my way up before."

"He said something about watching a new series he recently ordered out of a catalogue. He even insisted it was business related." One of Egon's eyebrows rose as evidence of his doubt of his friend's claim. "I'm sure you'll be able to find him in the living room."

"I think I'll do that, find out what he considers business related, then start supper for everybody. I get the feeling you two missed lunch."

"Oh, no! We had sandwiches. Peter made sure of that," Ray declared.

"Yes. It was his weak excuse to check up on us and our project," Egon added.

The black man chuckled again and shook his head. "I wouldn't call it so weak. You guys do need to eat, no matter what kind of fascinating science is going on in here. I'll come get you when dinner's ready. Later." He gave a short wave and headed for the stairs to the second floor.

* * *

Peter Venkman was exactly where Egon had said he'd be, in the living room watching television. The brown-haired man was sprawled on the couch, lazily munching on a bowl of popcorn as his green eyes stayed riveted on the screen. "Hey, Pete. What are you watching?" Winston asked as he circled around and sat on the old recliner.

"Oh, hey, Winston," Peter replied, giving his friend a smile. "Just a new series I picked up. Called 'Mythos'. Looks at ancient myths and legends and how they helped shape Western traditions. I thought it sounded cool. And it's even job related, think of that. This Joseph Campbell did a decent job." He sat up and offered the popcorn bowl to the other man.

"No thanks. Looks like it's got some decent cinematography at least."

"That I can agree with. Wanna watch with me?"

"I can do that for a while. Then I told our two mad scientists I was making supper." He grinned, his dark brown eyes sparkling. "I hear you kept them fed to keep an eye on them."

Peter snorted. "Someone has to. And they better not be playing mad scientist. We can't afford new windows quite this soon after the last time, especially during the traditional mid-summer slump."

"Don't worry quite so much, Pete. You put the fear of Venkman in them. They told me they were taking their time with this gadget. Sounds like it'll be useful, though."

"Actually it does. I could do with some advance warning when someone like the Goz is going to come knocking at our door. And if we'd have time to throw the dead bolt, so much the better." The psychologist yawned before he munched on another handful of buttery kernels. "So how'd moving your nephew go? I thought I heard you go by while I was in the kitchen getting my TV snacks ready."

"Went off without a hitch, but I definitely worked up a sweat. Made me glad I've stayed in shape. Those friends of Noah's could barely keep up." Winston grinned.

Peter's eyes narrowed as he contemplated his friend. "You didn't push yourself too hard trying to keep up with kids more than half your age, did you? You could have hurt yourself."

The black man looked at his friend strangely. "You know, one of Noah's friends, a shorter girl with brown hair like yours, pulled me aside and asked me the same thing. Said they were all just grateful for the extra help and I didn't need to prove anything. But I'm fine. Just a little tired, that's all."

"Smart kid, then. And that better be all that's wrong with you."

"It is. Promise. But it was nice spending time with Noah. Sometimes it's hard to believe he's only fourteen. He's a bright kid, and we've always gotten along great. Almost like a son of my own." A gentle, proud smile softened the older man's features.

The brown-haired man gave his companion a soft smile of his own after smothering another yawn. "It's great that you have family like that to spend time with. I've always wished I had more of my own. But I've got you guys, so I guess I'm okay." The smile transformed into a wide grin.

"Damn straight," Winston responded. "And don't you forget it. Because I _will_ remind you, and it'll be in a way that you'll never forget again."

Peter noticed the wicked glint in the brown eyes staring at him and took him at his word. "You got a deal, Zed. No forgetting the important stuff like family for Doctor Venkman, no siree." The two of them laughed.

"So, Pete, what's with the jaw stretching? You can't tell me you didn't get enough sleep. You were still in bed when I called to check in about eleven o'clock." It was the black man's turn to give his friend a concerned look.

The psychologist returned the gaze for a quiet moment before responding. "It's not so much a matter of quantity as quality, Zed. I had the strangest dreams, more than usual. Well, I remember more than usual anyway."

Dark brown eyes narrowed. "What kind of dreams are you talking about?"

"The images have been fading since I got up - which is par for the course - but I can still feel a kind of stalking presence, something hovering over my shoulder. And it wasn't very nice." Peter sighed, shifting uncomfortably on the couch. "There was something else, too, but I can't put my finger on what exactly. It was really subtle."

Winston watched the other man carefully for a minute then began to smile. "Subtle, huh? Well, I don't think you have to worry about that dream again. I think we all know that subtlety is not exactly a huge part of your makeup." His eyes shone with a gentle understanding that belied the teasing words aimed at giving the man a way out of this particular topic of conversation. Peter merely stuck his tongue out at his older friend, his own eyes shining with thanks, and the two of them turned their attention to the television and the video playing on it.

They'd been exploring the myths of the Aztecs for about fifteen minutes or so when the telephone rang, to be quickly answered by Janine downstairs. Neither man thought much about it until the accented soprano called up, "Could one of you pick up the phone? I've got a client on the line that wants to talk to a Ghostbuster."

Peter and Winston looked at each other and sighed. "I'm on it, Janine," the black man called back, leaning over to the end table between the recliner and the couch and grabbing the receiver. "This is Winston Zeddemore. How can I help you?"

There was a brief silence before the voice on the other end spoke. "My name is Felicia Atkinson, Mister Zeddemore. I live in Cherry County, Nebraska. I have a bit of a problem I'd like you and the other Ghostbusters to help me get rid of."

"What kind of problem would this be, Ms. Atkinson?" Winston asked calmly, noticing the slight tremor in her voice. He shifted the pad of paper they kept by the phone closer and took up the pencil that lay on top.

"This is so hard to explain," the older lady said quietly, her voice drifting off a bit. She took a deep breath and continued. "My family's been under a curse for centuries, Mister Zeddemore. I'll go into complete details when you come out here if you agree to help, but the short of it is that a demon has cursed my line and wishes to take my soul, or if not that, the blood of my descendants. I want it stopped, Mister Zeddemore. It appeared to me in person instead of just my dreams for the first time last night, and I can't let this go on much longer. My son..." Here her voice trailed off into a smothered sob, quickly recovered from. "Please, Mister Zeddemore. I need the Ghostbusters to help free my family from this menace, before it's too late."

The oldest Ghostbuster blinked at the ferocity of the woman's determination, his eyes sightlessly gazing at the few notes he had taken. He doubted he would ever forget what she said. "Ms. Atkinson, I need to talk to the others about this. Could you leave me your phone number? I'll call you back before dinner and let you know what we've decided." Winston ignored the odd look he got from Peter at the comment.

There was the sound of a hard swallow from the other end of the line. "Of course, Mister Zeddemore," she replied quietly and gave him the information. "Please, be quick. I have to believe him when he says it will be over soon."

"Of course, ma'am. I just need the other Ghostbusters' input before agreeing to such a big case, that's all."

"I understand. And I'm sure there's some preparation you need to do as well. I'll speak with you again soon."

"Good-bye, ma'am." He hung up the phone and looked at the confused psychologist. "I'll explain upstairs, Pete. Ray and Egon need to be in on this, too." The other man's green eyes narrowed suspiciously, but he silently rose after stopping the tape and turning the television off then led the way to the third floor. Winston sighed and followed.

* * *

"I'm not sure exactly how dangerous this is," Winston said in summation after he repeated the short conversation he had just had, "but the tone of her voice said it was serious. I told her I'd call her back before dinner with our decision."

"It would be difficult to determine which pieces of equipment to bring along with such a sketchy description of the problem," Egon responded with a frown, his arms crossed on his chest. "Why didn't you get any more information?"

"She was pretty upset, but she said she'd give us the full story if we agreed to help. I got the feeling that no matter how scared she was she was sticking to that. I think we have enough to make a decision."

"I think so, too," Ray said with a small frown of his own. "But I wish I knew the story."

"And I, as well," Egon agreed. "I must admit to some skepticism as to the validity of Ms. Atkinson's interpretation of her vision. It's quite possible that the hypothetical appearance of the demon was another facet of the dream she mentioned."

"You don't think she's lying?" Ray asked, shocked.

The physicist blinked. "No, of course not, Raymond. I merely question her ability to analyze her vision and dream and draw a distinct division between the two."

Winston shifted slightly on the tall stool he sat on. "Are you saying that she might have had a bad dream and is making too much of it?"

"Precisely," the blond said with a nod.

"Well, she did say her family had been under a curse for centuries," Ray offered tentatively.

"Couldn't that just make it that much easier to overreact to a bad dream?" Winston retorted, his brows creased in thought. "Especially if it was really vivid and lifelike." His eyes narrowed slightly as he considered his own argument.

Egon nodded. "An excellent point, Winston. I had considered that myself. There is also the commute involved to consider. We are in the middle of a dry spell. Can we truly afford to travel to the Midwest for a possible exaggeration of a superstitious woman's imagination?"

"Now hold on," the oldest one of the four interrupted, holding up a hand. "I only brought that up so we look at all the possibilities. I'm not saying I'm against this, exactly. I just want to be sure."

Ray bit his lower lip as he thought about what he had heard. "Gosh, guys, I don't know. You said she sounded scared, right, Winston?" The veteran nodded. "What can it really hurt to go out there and check it out? We'd make her feel better at least, even if she is imagining things. And it's not like we're all that busy here. Most calls that come up during these slumps are just little Class Twos that can wait until we get back." His light brown gaze shot back and forth between the two active participants in the discussion before pausing and moving on the last country heard from. "Peter?" he asked the unusually quiet psychologist who had been watching the proceedings from his normal seat on the beat-up lab couch. "What are you thinking?"

The emerald green eyes locked with those light browns, then flickered to sky blues and dark browns. "I think we're getting petty," he said quietly as he sat up and crossed his arms over his chest. "One way or the other we can get paid. One way or the other we can get answers. One way or the other we can get out of the city for a while." The corners of his lips twitched upward briefly. "And when did you pick up a Ph.D. in psychology, Spengs? That's a pretty hasty diagnosis for such a sketchy case study."

"Well, it's not as though our self-proclaimed expert was offering anything to the discussion." Blond eyebrows headed for the hairline. "Is something wrong, Peter? It's not like you to be so reticent."

"Nothing's wrong," Peter said quickly, shifting on the sofa. "But let's make a decision here. I think we all agree that we can?" The others nodded. "What about you, Ray?"

The redhead gave his friend a concerned look before answering. "I say we go. It could really be something. And we can make her feel better."

The tall blond sighed. "I would feel infinitely more comfortable with this if we were in possession of all of the information," Egon said resignedly. "But I can support our acceptance of this case."

"I'm in," Winston said with a shrug. "I just wanted to be sure we covered everything."

The three of them turned to stare at the brown-haired man that hadn't really offered his opinion to that point. "I'm so glad you agreed. I was afraid I'd have to bust some heads. Turn down a job during the summer slump? I don't think so." Peter stood and headed for the lab doors without meeting anyone's gaze. "Go ahead and give our new client the good news, Winston. I'm sure she'll feel better to know we're on the job." And he was gone.

The remaining three men looked at each other. "Do either of you have any clue what's eating him?" Winston asked.

Ray shook his head as Egon answered, "No, unfortunately I don't. But I have every intention of finding out." The blond physicist turned and headed out after the disturbed psychologist.

Egon caught up with Peter as he reached the kitchen on the second floor. "Are you going to make me ask again, Peter?"

The brown-haired man stiffened at the sound of the older man's voice. "Ask what, Egon? Can't a man grab a snack before dinner? I promise not to ruin my appetite." He stepped over to the fridge and opened it.

"Peter, it's obvious something's bothering you, most likely something concerning Ms. Atkinson's call. Will you tell me what it is?"

The other man tensed even more and stared sightlessly into the ice box for a long moment, then sighed and shut the refrigerator door. "I'd tell you if I knew, Spengs. There's just something inside that's screaming at me to take this case, that I... that we need to go out there and take care of this." He turned around and leaned back against the large appliance. "I can't explain it, but I have to go."

"Then we go." Egon smiled. "And you were right. It will be pleasant to get out of the city for a while. The temperature's been a little excessive."

Peter narrowed his eyes as he considered his best friend. "Speaking of problems, what was with that little display upstairs? Since when do you jump to the conclusion that someone's overreacting?"

At that it was Egon's turn to sigh as his shoulders slumped somewhat. "I was frustrated, I suppose. With your admonishment Ray and I have been taking our time to complete our prototype, and the slower pace has been stifling. I must admit to a high level of excitement in regards to this project, and I have been hoping to complete the device and at least one set of tests before business picks up again." Pale blue eyes bore into a pair of emerald greens. "That and someone was being uncharacteristically quiet. When you didn't refute my theory, I wondered if I couldn't be correct."

"Are you telling me that you said that about her dream because you were peeved about taking so long with your new gizmo? And then you actually believed it just because I didn't say anything?"

"I may have been teasing you before, but you are our expert in matters of the mind." Blue eyes sparkled as the physicist's lips twitched upward. "It's not as though you've ever been able to let such a comment go unanswered before. What was I supposed to think?"

"That's just it, Egon, you were supposed to think. Come on, what do you think we keep you around for? Certainly not your fashion sense, that's for sure." Peter smirked as he gestured toward Egon's typical outfit of a pink shirt, light brown pants, and suspenders.

Egon failed to respond, although he did narrow his eyes briefly at the irreverent psychologist. "Why don't we see if Winston has found out any more particulars from Ms. Atkinson? Then we can attempt to determine what pieces of equipment we may need to bring along." He herded the brown-haired man ahead of him as he made his way back up to the third floor.

When they got there, Winston was just hanging up the lab extension, Ray standing nearby eagerly. "Hey, guys," the black man said as he noticed their arrival.

Peter nodded his acknowledgment and moved over to flop back down on the couch. "That Ms. Atkinson?" he asked lightly.

"You got it. She was really relieved when I told her we'd take the case. She said she'd confirm the plane ticket reservations she made hoping we'd say yes and gave me the information. I told her we'd make the arrangements for our equipment." The older man gave the brown-haired psychologist a speculative look. "You feelin' better, Pete?" Ray looked over at him as well.

He gave his two worried friends a smile. "Yeah, I'm better. I'm just getting a feeling that it's really important to go out there. But we are, so that's not an issue." He shrugged.

"Did you get any further information, Winston?" Egon asked.

The veteran shook his head. "I'm afraid not, Egon. She just repeated that she'd tell us everything when we got there. Are we going to be okay picking out equipment?"

Ray frowned as he thought about that. "Well, let's think about this for a second. Maybe we do have enough information after all."

"What do you mean, Ray?" the blond man queried curiously.

"She says it's a curse, right? From a demon?" The others nodded. "There's a start. And she said that it was demanding either her soul or the blood of her descendants. That suggests a blood ritual of some sort was used when this all started, although I don't know which one, of course. I'll have to bring a decent selection of my books..." His voice trailed off as he started to ponder just which tomes he'd want.

Egon smiled as he moved the rest of the way across the room to where a lot of their detection equipment was kept. "You're right, Raymond. That is an excellent place to start. No matter how much Ms. Atkinson had told us we still wouldn't have exact readings and would be working on hypotheses anyway. I'll pick out what we should most likely need."

"And what about us?" Peter asked a bit indignantly. "Winston and I aren't just stage dressing, you know - although we would be damn good-looking stage dressing." He gave the other man a wink, causing Winston to laugh.

"How about we take care of those arrangements for the equipment?" the black man offered. "And then we can do dinner."

Peter grinned. "Now that sounds like a plan. So what kind of time table are we looking at before we get out there?" A bit of tension touched his expression.

Winston narrowed his eyes a bit at the change, but chose not to mention anything. "Ms. Atkinson couldn't get us anything until the day after tomorrow, kinda early. At least it's a cushion for the airline." He shrugged.

"Then that's what we got. Let's go take care of this." Peter gestured for Winston to lead the way out, only letting the discomfort he was feeling show once no one was looking as he followed.

* * *

"Yes, of course it's absolutely necessary," Peter snapped into the phone in his office early the next afternoon. "I thought we cleared everything last night." He listened to the response. "Sir, I understand you're concerned about your plane, but I assure you our equipment is perfectly safe..." He paused again as he was cut off. "Hold it! Just what is your title again?" His eyes closed as his scowl got deeper. "I can't believe this," he muttered after getting his answer. "Let me talk to your supervisor," the man demanded.

On the other side of the filing cabinets that separated the two work areas, Janine paused in her work on the monthly invoices to listen to the one-sided debate going on behind her. Peter had come down in an irritable mood a couple hours ago - she was willing to guess he hadn't slept well - to finish filling out the paperwork the airline needed to transport the team's equipment, in particular the portable nuclear accelerators.

Ray had told her about the bust they had taken for the lady in Nebraska, and she was glad they had agreed to it. Not only would they get to help this woman and her family, but they'd get a decent change of scenery, something she was sure they needed - especially Peter considering his mood the last couple of days.

Janine frowned as she considered that. She was reluctant to admit even to herself that she was worried about her favorite pest, but this snippiness wasn't really like him, not after only a couple days of iffy sleep. He could be moody, sure, but not quite this ready to take someone's head off. She was just lucky she hadn't said anything to him when he came down to set him off.

The redhead sighed. Doctor Peter Venkman could be quite the enigma at times. She only wished now wasn't one of those times. She had a feeling they were going to need him at top form for this assignment in the Midwest.

"Thank you, sir," Peter's voice said with sickly sweetness dripping from his tone. "I'm glad we could work this out, too. I'll drop off the signed paperwork later this afternoon. Yes, until then. Bye." There was a sharp click as the receiver was replaced rather carefully, followed by a dull thump. "Why do I have to continually deal with incompetents?" the psychologist's muffled voice complained irritably. Janine guessed he had his arms folded on his desk with his head buried in them.

The secretary wisely chose not to reply and went back to her typing. Not long after, the phone rang, and she hurried to pick it up before Peter decided to. "Hello, Ghostbusters. We zap and trap nasty things off the map." She paused for the response, ignoring the complaining groan her greeting inspired from behind her. "Oh, sure! Just a second." She clapped her hand over the mouthpiece and called back over her shoulder, "Doctor Venkman, it's your father."

"Wonderful. This should make my day go so much better." He picked up his extension and waited for the sound of Janine hanging up hers before speaking. "Hey, Pop, what do you need? Please tell me you're not in trouble again."

"Son, is that any way to greet your dear old dad?"

The brown-haired man groaned. "Oh, god, Dad, what is it now? What rich, famous, and influential person have you scammed and ticked off now? And how much is it going to cost me?"

Charlie Venkman chuckled. "I'm not calling to ask for money, son. I haven't gotten caught for months."

"Then what is it?" Curiosity slowly began to infuse the suspicious man's tone.

"You did a study on dreams when you were in college, didn't you?" the older man asked seriously, a touch of fatigue making his voice even more gravelly than usual.

"Dreams? Yeah, I was part of a study while I was going for my master's degree in psychology. Helped me come up with my thesis for the parapsychology one, actually. What about it?"

"There's supposed to be a significance to certain dreams, isn't there?"

Emerald green eyes narrowed. "Yeah," he replied cautiously. "Why?"

Charlie took a deep breath before plunging ahead. "I've been having some doozies the last couple of nights, and I thought you might be able to help me with them."

"Is this on the level?"

"Peter! What could I possibly gain from something like this?"

"I'm not in any condition to guess right now, but I'm sure there's something." Peter paused and thought for a moment. "But just assuming for a minute that I believe you, what kind of dreams? Whatever they are they're interrupting your sleep. You sound exhausted."

His father shook his head. "I always had a harder time getting things by you. Yeah, I haven't been sleeping well." It was his turn to pause. "I have a feeling I'm not the only one. Are you okay, son?"

"I'll be okay. I'm going to try taking a nap in a little while. So what about these dreams?"

"Actually, I'm not entirely clear on the details..."

"Aw, Dad..."

"No, wait a minute, son. Hear me out." Charlie took a deep breath and continued. "I'm not sure of the details, but I know something's watching me, following me. And it's not very nice. Everything's dark. I can't see anything."

Peter sighed. "Then how do you know something's there?"

His father shrugged, although he knew the man on the other end of the line couldn't see it. "I could feel it, Peter. There was a presence there, something I can't explain. I wish I could tell you more. The main thing about it, though, is that it bothered me, bothered me enough to keep waking me up every time I had the dream. What do you make of it?"

The younger Venkman was silent as he considered his father's words. It all sounded so familiar. He had shivers run up and down his spine as his own dreams flashed through his mind. And the sense of urgency that had come over him ever since Felicia Atkinson's call the day before boiled even higher, making it difficult to sit still. He wished he understood what was going on.

"Peter? Are you still there?"

"Yeah, I'm here, Pop," Peter said, shaking himself out of his reverie. "I'm not completely sure what to make of that. If you're looking for a traditional interpretation, I'd have to look through some of my books. I haven't really studied the subject since college."

"But you could do it, right?"

Something about the eagerness in the other man's voice set off alarm bells in Peter's head. "Why, Pop? What are you thinking?"

"Well..."

"Just spill it."

"I just thought that this kind of dream could be... significant. You know, valuable to your work. What if I'm being influenced by some ghost or something? Or it's some kind of premonition you boys could use a warning about? Maybe I'm even being possessed. Come on, Peter. I could come out there and we could video tape the whole thing. Think of the money selling the rights to all this could bring in!"

"I can't believe you, Dad! You're actually trying to turn a few lousy nightmares into another one of your scams! And you're trying to drag me along with you! Well, I'm not going to let you. Period." Peter paused for a moment to try to get himself under some semblance of control. "And, Dad, let me tell you one thing. If you were being possessed, you'd know. Believe me, you'd know. Is that all you wanted?"

Charlie sighed, seeing yet another great idea flitter away in the wind. "Yeah, that's it. I wanted to touch base with you about the dreams. I'm just sorry you don't want to get in on this. There's a lot of potential, Peter."

"Oh, Dad, you'd think you'd know better by now. So, where are you anyway?"

"Denver. I thought I'd take a cruise through the Midwest and see what I could shake up. In fact..." His voice faded out temporarily as dark images flashed through his mind. "I think I'm going to head out just after lunch. There's nothing holding me here. No reason to wait."

Peter was about to accuse his father of being on the run yet again when the tone the man used sank in. He just knew that a failed scam was not the source of this unusual urgency. "Just be careful, Pop, okay? I don't want to have to bail you out of trouble again. The price is getting kind of steep."

"I'll do my best, Peter, I promise. But for now you get that nap and watch yourself. I know how dangerous your job is. I don't want to read about an accident that happened because you weren't at the top of your game. My boy's better than that."

The pride in the elder Venkman's voice made his son smile. "All right, Pop. I'm going to get going then. Hopefully I'll talk to you soon."

"Talk to you soon, Peter. Bye."

"Bye." Peter hung up the phone gently and rubbed his hands over his face.

Janine had been doing her best not to eavesdrop on the conversation going on in the office behind hers, but considering it involved Peter's father - and they all knew the depths Charlie Venkman could sink to - she couldn't help herself. Fortunately, she had become a master at typing and listening intently over the years she had worked at Ghostbuster Central, and so managed not to look suspicious when Peter trudged out of his office, pausing by her desk to pick up the pile of mail the secretary had left there for him. "So how are things with your dad?" she asked carefully, remembering his previous temper.

"You heard every word I said, Melnitz," Peter said calmly as he leafed through the envelopes. "Don't think I don't know that. You've been listening in for years."

Janine blinked. Okay, maybe she wasn't as subtle as she thought she was. Of course, she was dealing with Peter Venkman. She'd never tell him to his face, but the man could see through anything if he put his mind to it. "Well then, what's up with your dad? I know what I heard, but that doesn't explain very much."

"He's having nightmares." The man's tone was short and curt.

"I got that, and I also got that he was trying to pull a scam with them. But that's not what's bugging you." She narrowed her sapphire blue eyes. "At least not the scam. Is it the nightmares?"

Peter looked up sharply from the letters he held and met that intense gaze. He tensed all over, thinking not for the first time that sometimes their secretary was extremely observant - and it was far too easy to forget that. That's when he noticed the deep concern buried in the blue depths. That made him go limp, seating himself in his usual position on the corner of the desk. This was his little sister, after all. "When Pop described his nightmares, it hit too close to home. I've gotten squat for sleep the last couple of nights, and I'm feeling this driving need to... go." He let loose a deep breath and rubbed a hand over his face. "I need to get out to Nebraska, and the wait is driving me nuts. This lack of sleep isn't doing me an ounce of good."

Janine took a quick look around and confirmed the garage was empty. She reached out and put a comforting hand on Peter's knee. "You'll be out there early tomorrow, and then you'll find out what the big deal is. As for now, why don't you go upstairs and take that nap you mentioned?" She smiled then, and let her tone turn light. "Then maybe you won't feel the need to have airline bureaucrats' heads for lunch."

A brief laugh escaped the psychologist's lips, and the effect of the resulting smile was nothing short of amazing. "Fine, fine, Melnitz, I'm going. I know when I'm not wanted." He made his way to the steps, turning back briefly when he reached the first landing. "Thanks, Janine." The pair shared a quick smile, then Peter jogged up the rest of the stairs, disappearing quickly from sight.

Janine returned to her work, her smile lingering. That worked out well, she thought warmly. Now if only the rest of this trip would go as smoothly.


	2. Chapter 2

_It looks like you people are liking this story - yay! I'm so glad! So here's the next chapter. Enjoy, and feel free to let me know what you think!_

* * *

Egon looked around the airport in North Platte, Nebraska, the next morning as he waited for his companions to finish picking up their luggage from the baggage claim. Their equipment was supposed be delivered to the loading zone in front of the doors nearest their gate, where they were also supposed to be meeting their client from what Winston had mentioned the night before. The physicist sighed as he adjusted the shoulder strap of his carry-on bag, his sharp blue eyes trying to determine which of the dozen or so waiting people was the elderly lady they had agreed to help. His gaze finally rested on a small, silver-haired woman with deep brown eyes and a tentative smile who had just walked inside.

Upon making eye contact, the woman made her way over to where Egon stood next to the seating area. "You're one of the Ghostbusters, right?" she asked in a lower soprano, having to look up to the top of Egon's 6'3" frame once she had arrived. Her smile grew. "I apologize for not knowing your name. I've heard of you, of course, but I haven't paid close attention to the news coverage."

"Quite understandable, ma'am," the blond man replied politely. "I'm Doctor Egon Spengler. My colleagues should be joining us shortly."

"That's fine, Doctor Spengler. I only just arrived myself, so it's not like I've been waiting forever." There was a twinkle in her eye that Egon found familiar, but he couldn't quite place from where.

"Okay, Egon, that should just about do it for me," Winston said as he walked up, his suitcase in tow. "Ray's still waiting for one of his bags and Pete said he'd wait with him."

"That's fine. Winston, this is Ms. Felicia Atkinson. Ms. Atkinson, my colleague, Winston Zeddemore."

"How do you do, ma'am? It's nice to finally meet in person," Winston said, offering his hand.

Felicia shook it. "Better, now that you boys are here. I'm hoping this won't take too long to fix. My son is in danger."

Winston shared a look with Egon at the remark, neither man missing the slight tremor that went through the woman as she said it. "Don't worry, Ms. Atkinson. We'll take care of this for you."

"Man, oh man, this is not Ray's day," Peter said as he pulled his suitcase up to the trio by its handle and sat down on top of it, letting his carry-on flop to the floor. He adjusted his sunglasses. "They must have unloaded his bags from the plane last. And then, when he opened the one to check on his books, a security guard came up and decided to do an impromptu random bag check. He told me to go on ahead so I could explain to you guys what was taking so long."

"Are his books all right?" Egon asked.

Peter shrugged. "Looked like it to me, but I didn't have my head stuck inside like Ray did either. He didn't say anything, if that means something." He finally noticed the little lady standing in front of his friends watching their interplay with a look of amusement. "Hello," he said, rising to his feet. "You must be Ms. Felicia Atkinson. I'm Doctor Peter Venkman." He took her offered hand and kissed the back of it, missing the widening of her eyes at his introduction.

She stifled her reaction and laughed. "You're quite the ladies' man, aren't you, Doctor Venkman?" she asked knowingly.

"He likes to think so," Egon said before the psychologist could respond.

"Hmpf!" Peter straightened to his full height and stuck his nose in the air slightly. "I know the stirrings of jealousy when I see it. It's not my fault you won't do anything about your love life. Janine's just raring and waiting whenever you're ready, big guy."

"That is not the issue, Peter. And I have a quite active social life. Just because I'm not dating someone new every other week like some people I could mention does not mean that it is lacking in any regard." A pale blond eyebrow rose as the slight flush Peter's comment had produced faded.

"Taking Professor Sotelo's younger sister to Columbia's Physics Department Banquet doesn't count as an active social life, Egon. The woman's how much older than you?" He turned to Felicia, pulled down his glasses briefly, and gave her a wink. "No offense."

"None taken." The older lady was having a hard time controlling her smile.

"And that's not even considering her looks. She'd kill your molds just by being in the same room. And that's on a good day."

"I was doing the professor a favor, and since I did not have a companion to attend the function with, I could see no harm in attending to the lady."

"You do know how to stretch the language, Spengs, I'll give you that. That's not the word _I_ would have used to describe her."

"We know, Pete," Winston said, smiling at the banter. "We heard about it for a week."

"Yes," Egon agreed. "Repetition is a technique often used by the young and the mentally deficient." His small smile was sly.

"That hurts, Spengs. Really, it does. Or at least it would if I didn't know a certain blond physicist who uses the same technique on a daily basis. Well, certainly at staff meetings if nothing else." Peter's green eyes twinkled.

"It is also a technique to be used to teach the young and the mentally deficient."

"So you _do_ understand why I do it then!"

Ray rushed up to the group at that point, cutting off what was sure to be yet another witty retort from Egon. "Gosh, guys, I'm sorry I took so long. That security guard went through _everything_. And the looks he gave me when he saw my books! He really wasn't very nice about it at all." His light brown eyes shifted over to the older woman who was struggling to control a fit of laughter. "Oh! You must be Ms. Atkinson. I hope I didn't keep you waiting too long."

Felicia managed to shake his hand as she got herself calmed down. "It's no problem. I was kept well entertained." Peter and Winston chuckled at that, the former giving Egon a subtle wink that produced yet another raised eyebrow.

"I'm Doctor Ray Stantz, by the way. If that crate out there is our stuff, I'd say we were ready to go. That is, if you are, Ms. Atkinson."

"Any time you boys are. I brought the truck so we'd have room for everything. Let me pull it around." She moved quickly out the front doors, her relief at their imminent departure obvious to them all.

The Ghostbusters weren't far behind her. "What were you guys talking about when I came up?" Ray asked as they double checked the crate and waited for Felicia to pull around with her truck. "Did you get any more information about the curse?"

"These two were playing," Winston explained, shaking his head.

"What?" Ray turned a surprised expression to his fellow doctors. "I figured you would have been asking her all sorts of questions."

Peter shot a look at Egon, receiving one in return that said the ball was in his court. He sighed. "Look, Tex. When I walked up the lady looked a little upset, and besides, the middle of an airport lobby doesn't seem to me to be the best place to have that kind of conversation. We should have plenty of time to talk about it in private on the ride back to her place if the map I looked at is any indication. That, and Egon just made it too easy." A wicked grin took over his features.

The redhead smiled. "I bet."

"You do have a point there, Pete. If this is any kind of drive, there'll be plenty of time to talk things out. It'll beat looking at the scenery."

"That's true," Egon concurred unexpectedly. "If our last road trip through this state was any indication, it should be mostly grassland and prairie. This is considered part of the Great Plains, after all. That does become tedious after a while."

"And when Egon says it's boring, you know it's true torture," Peter said with a short laugh as a large extended cab truck pulled up in front of them. "Ah, our chariot has arrived. Shall we load up, gentlemen?" The brown-haired man gestured dramatically toward the vehicle Felicia Atkinson was currently exiting.

"Boy, am I glad they left us this pallet jack," Winston said as he and Ray used the item in question once the older lady had opened the gate for them.

"No kidding. This would have been awful without it," Ray agreed.

Soon they were loaded up and on their way to the Atkinson ranch in Cherry County. Egon was in the passenger side bucket seat, while Ray, Winston, and Peter were crammed together in the back. "I'm sorry about the lack of comfortable seating," Felicia apologized nervously as they made their way north. "I just knew we needed enough hauling capacity for all your equipment. This was the best we had at the ranch." Her fingers drummed intermittently on the steering wheel and she couldn't seem to sit still.

"No problem," Peter assured her from his position squashed against the passenger side of the truck. "We understand perfectly."

Ray, sitting next to him, was the only one who saw the grimace on his face. "We really do, Ms. Atkinson. Could you maybe tell us more about the curse, though? The more we know, the more we'll be ready to deal with it."

The woman sighed. "All right, Doctor Stantz. Generations ago, I'm not sure exactly how many, but it was before the family emigrated to America, one of my ancestors, Hans Decker, sought respect and power. He was a moderately wealthy merchant, but this didn't give him quite enough of what he was looking for. You see, he knew that he was descended from the royal line, but things didn't quite work out for that particular branch of the family. So he did research. He eventually came across a book of arcane spells. I don't know the title, I was never told, but it contained a ritual that allowed him to summon a demon so he could make a bargain with it." Her gaze was frozen straight ahead, her expression just as unmoving from the blank rigidness the beginning of her tale inspired.

"Hans spent months getting everything ready so it would be just right. He didn't want to make any mistakes, and he knew how devious demons could be. He figured out the exact wording of his request, and put it all into motion secretly just outside of town. The demon appeared, a creature made entirely of shadows, or so it seemed. Hans said that he wanted power and respect. The demon said it could provide that, supposing Hans was willing to pay the price. Hans agreed, but with a few stipulations of his own.

"Hans said that in the granting of his request he was not to be harmed in any way whatsoever. The demon agreed, saying that when it had done its part of the deal, Hans would freely give up his soul. The bargain was struck. The demon stepped out of the bounds of the circle that summoned it, and moved out to do what it had been brought to our world to do after telling Hans to stay in the circle of protection. This was supposedly to better seal the deal, as far as I understand.

"Finally, the demon came back, just before dawn, saying the deed was done. Within a day's time, he'd get everything he wanted from the townspeople. Hans rushed back to share the wonderful news with his wife and child, and found his house burned to the ground and the mutilated bodies of his family in the front yard. As he stood there in complete and utter shock, his neighbors approached him and told him the tale of how a cloaked figure had been seen leaving the house after dragging out his wife and child and starting the fire. Soon enough the entire neighborhood had gathered around. By the end of the day, he had heard comments flying around the crowd describing how they were so impressed with how well he was taking the tragedy, and fellow merchants had approached him with more business than he had ever seen out of pity for what he was going through. As the demon had promised, by the end of the day he'd gotten more respect and money, which he knew would lead to more power - it always does, doesn't it? But he had lost what was most dear to him, and underneath the somewhat composed mourning figure, Hans Decker was furious at the demon.

"The next morning he rushed to the circle and confronted the thing. He told it that it had gone against the terms of the deal and so he had no obligation to it for anything. The demon disagreed, saying it hadn't done the man any harm and it was time to pay up. Hans countered by saying that it _had_ done him harm. It had hurt him by killing the people he loved, his family. And so, because he had been hurt by the way the demon had taken care of its side of the bargain, that same bargain was null and void, and he owed it nothing.

"You can guess how well the demon took that. It ranted and raved, but was still bound by the conditions of the bargain - if it ever wanted to see its payment. Finally, realizing how helpless it was, the demon cursed Hans, saying that it would have his soul, and if not, it would have that of the next oldest of his line. I guess this bound it to the Decker family. Ever since then, the demon has approached the oldest of the line and demanded that person's soul in payment of the deal struck by Hans Decker so long ago. If that person would not give up their soul, it would threaten their blood, sometimes killing children and grandchildren to try to force the bargain. No one's given in yet, and somehow the line's continued, even with these random murders. But I want it stopped. I'm tired of living under this thing's shadow, and this is not the legacy I want to leave to my son. That's why I brought you here." Finally, at the end of her explanation, a burning rage flared up in her dark brown eyes, though they never left the road before her, and her grip on the wheel turned her knuckles white.

The four men blinked as they processed the information they had just been given. "Just as clarification," Egon began, recovering first, "I'm guessing that Hans remarried and had other children, and so continued his line."

Felicia nodded. "He had one son, Gerritt. And it was Gerritt's son Izaac that came across in 1802 with his wife Wilhelmina. Their son was the one that actually joined the American 'melting pot'."

"So when did your family decide to follow the call to go west?" Ray asked, intrigued.

"Oh, they didn't. City boys and girls, each and every one of them. I'm originally from New York, like all the rest of the Decker line. We haven't been Deckers for a while now, not since Jacob only had a daughter, but the line is still intact."

"I take it your mom or dad told you about the curse at some point so you'd know about it before this demon came calling, asking for your soul," Peter guessed, not missing the tremor in the lady's voice now that the story was over.

"My mother, when I was sixteen. She had been ill for a long time, and wasn't sure how much longer she'd last. She wanted to make sure I knew. That's the way the family's always done it. The tale's been passed down that way ever since Hans told Gerritt about the fate of his first family and the curse that came with it."

"Did you ever get a name for the demon?" the occultist squeezed between Winston and Peter asked a bit urgently. "If you have that, it should be pretty easy to find him in our reference books so we'll know what to do to stop him."

"No, that I don't know. I don't think Hans was trying for any one in particular. He was pretty much just ready to do business with whatever creature responded to his call."

"That will make things more difficult," Egon said thoughtfully. "But not impossible. You told Winston it had appeared to you, correct?"

"That's right. Not last night, but two nights before."

"Well, if you can give us a description, we should be able to work with that, right, guys?" Winston chimed in from the back seat. "We've done it before, at any rate."

"That should work fine," Ray agreed.

Felicia shuddered. "Could we wait on that until we get home, gentlemen? I'm still a bit shaken up by everything, and I don't want to get us into an accident while we're in the middle of nowhere."

"No problem," Peter said quickly. "That way we'll have a chance to write it down so you only have to say it once."

"Thank you, Doctor Venkman. I appreciate that."

* * *

The rest of the ride went by uneventfully, brief spurts of casual conversation filling the time and keeping their minds off the miles of plains surrounding them. Four and a half hours or so after they left North Platte, the truck finally pulled into a small town, Turner as declared by the sign they passed.

"My god," Peter murmured after he woke from a brief doze. "If you blinked you'd miss this place."

"That's for sure," Winston agreed as they pulled into a tiny gas station.

"Oh, the place is definitely small, I'll give you that," Felicia said with a smile. "It's more like a resupply area for the surrounding farmers. Anything big enough to be found on a map is a decent drive away. We've got a grocery store, this gas station, a restaurant, three churches, and two bars." Her smile transformed into a wicked grin. "We're just overflowing with civilization here, I can tell you."

The four men couldn't help but laugh. "It's great to see you have such a wonderful sense of humor about it all, Ms. Atkinson," Ray said positively.

"Most definitely," Egon agreed. "How ever did you adjust to it after growing up in such a large city as New York?"

"Patience," was the immediate response. "That, and the people around here are wonderful. My late husband always had his ranch out here, run by some of the locals while he focused on his brokerage firm in the Big Apple. When he was ready to retire, we moved out here permanently."

"Seems like a nice enough place to retire to," Winston commented, looking around once he got out of the truck. "Lots of peace and quiet."

Felicia stretched and adjusted her long brown skirt. "There's plenty of that, but it's not like Jerry ever planned on sitting around long enough to enjoy it. He took a very active role in the running of our ranch. I helped too, of course, but it was his baby." She laughed a bit as she remembered her husband. "I don't think he could ever have just sat back and let the world go by, retired or no. He was too addicted to action, doing things. It was one of the things I loved about him." She sighed, and smiled softly.

"When did he die?" Peter asked gently, having also exited the vehicle.

"Five years ago in September. I remember he was so upset that he'd miss the harvest and would be leaving it all for me. We had already hired all the help I'd ever need, but he still worried about me." She met the psychologist's gaze head on. "I miss him."

"I don't doubt you do," the brown-haired man said with understanding in his tone.

"Did your husband know about the curse?" Ray asked quietly.

The older lady shook her head. "No. I always wanted to tell him, but how do you bring something like that up in casual conversation? 'What did you want for dinner, dear? And by the way, I have a demon that's probably going to be coming around some time to ask for my soul thanks to this nasty family curse I've inherited from my mother. Oh, and did you want dessert?'" She gave the four men a rueful smirk.

"You do have a point there," the occultist conceded, smiling.

"Speaking of dinner, though, how much longer until we get to your place?" Peter asked, rubbing his stomach. "We seem to have missed lunch, and I'm starved."

Felicia smiled. "Why don't the four of you head on over across the street and grab something at the Bartow Family Restaurant? I'll fill up the truck and run over to the General Store for some other supplies that I need, then meet you. We'll just have a late supper."

"That should be satisfactory," Egon agreed. "We'll meet you there later then." The four Ghostbusters smiled and headed off toward the restaurant.

The woman hesitated for a moment before calling after them. "Doctor Venkman, may I speak with you for a moment?"

Peter turned around curiously, gesturing for the other to go on without him. Once they had, he gave her a wide grin. "What do you need, Mrs. Atkinson?"

"I... only have a quick question. Your name seems familiar. Where's your family from?"

"The Big Apple," he answered promptly. "Brooklyn, to be precise. Well, from everything my dad's told me at any rate. Mom was from Long Island, though." His brows creased in confusion. "Why do you ask?"

"I thought that was it," Felicia replied, her brown eyes dropping. "I guess that must have been where I heard it then. Something we have in common, huh?"

The psychologist narrowed his eyes suspiciously. "No, really, why do you ask?"

She took a few breaths and met his gaze. "I haven't spent a lot of time in New York for about thirty-five years, Doctor Venkman. Your name brought back memories of someone I knew there that I miss very much. I'm sorry I made you think anything else."

"No, I'm sorry I read too much into that," Peter returned as his expression softened. "It's too bad you couldn't keep in touch with your friend. Maybe she's a relative of mine, a great aunt or something."

"Don't worry about it, Doctor Venkman. It's best left alone. But now you should go get your lunch, and I'll take care of my supplies. I shouldn't be long, and then we can get out to my ranch and we can end this."

The brown-haired man blinked at the ferocity in her tone and gave her a reassuring smile. "That's what we're here for. Don't worry - the Ghostbusters are on the job." He reached out and squeezed her shoulder, then turned and headed for the restaurant where the rest of his friends were waiting.

* * *

"Okay, moving has been temporarily removed from my vocabulary until further notice," Peter said as he flopped onto the sofa in Felicia's living room after helping the others unload the truck. His bangs were matted with sweat and he could only be glad his light grey polo shirt was loose enough to let the breeze that traveled through the screened windows of the house cool his skin.

"Come on, Peter," Ray chided, grinning hugely, his light brown eyes sparkling with amusement. "We still have time to do a preliminary scan of the property before supper, and there's always our reference books to go over."

"Ray is correct, Peter," Egon agreed, only the slightly wicked glint behind the red-rimmed glasses betraying the serious tone. "There is still work to be done, and it will require all four of us. This is no time for you to indulge in your customary slothful habits."

"Says you, Spengs. _I_ say I can take the time to at least reacquaint my lungs with the luxury of oxygen."

"Mrs. Atkinson," Winston asked the white-haired lady watching the interplay with a controlled smile, fighting one of his own, "is there anywhere you think we should focus our scans first? Where did the demon appear to you the other night?"

With a deep breath Felicia got herself under control. "At the base of the porch stairs, just outside the front door."

The brown-haired psychologist sat up, his expression serious. "You said something about it being a creature made entirely of shadows earlier. Is that what it looked like when it appeared to you? And will you be all right talking about it now?"

She smiled at Peter's concern, her gaze intent as she looked at him. "I'll be fine now. I just didn't want to cause an accident in case I became overly emotional while I was driving. And yes, the thing seemed to be made of the darkest shadows. It was a few inches taller than Doctor Spengler, and appeared to be wearing a cloak made of nothingness. The only color came from its glowing violet eyes that seemed to burn right through me as the gaze bore into mine." She shuddered in remembrance. "And it was pure evil. That I could feel pouring over me in waves. It means what it says; it wants my soul. And I can't give it to that... abomination. I just can't. No matter if..." Her voice trailed off and her lips clamped shut, her eyes flickering away from the psychologist.

The four men shared a look, each one realizing that this was not the time they were going to understand what she had been about to say. "Well, Mrs. Atkinson, I'd say that is enough of a description for us to begin a search through the reference guides we brought along. But first, I believe we should set up the rest of our detection equipment in case the demon decides to make another appearance." Egon then proceeded to assign duties, conveniently leaving Peter to calm down the obviously-agitated Felicia Atkinson.

"I can understand that you want to protect your son, Mrs. Atkinson," Peter began once the others left.

"I do, and the only way to do it is to stop this thing. I... haven't spoken to him..." Here she briefly paused, biting her lower lip for a moment before continuing. "I haven't really spoken with him since just after he turned eighteen, when I told him I was going to marry Jerry. I never got a chance to tell him about the curse."

Green eyes were confused as they watched the now-fidgeting woman who couldn't seem to look at him. "So you were married once before Mister Atkinson," he offered hesitantly.

She nodded. "My first husband was my son's father. Wallace died ten years before I married Jerry."

"And your son didn't take that very well."

"Not in the least, Doctor Venkman." She turned away from him completely and stared at the picture-laden mantle.

"Hey, we're all friends here, aren't we? Why don't we drop the 'Doctor Venkman'? Call me Peter like the rest of this bunch." He watched her carefully, hoping to get her mind off what was obviously a very troubling subject. Not that he could blame her. Her son ran out on her at what should have been one of the happiest times in her life. Not many people get a chance to love again after losing it the first time. And though her mention of her first husband was brief, Peter knew Felicia had loved him as much, if not more, than she had loved the man that had left her this ranch.

She turned to face him again, a shaky smile lightening her features. "Then call me Felicia. I'm not really very formal around here." She took a stabilizing breath. "You really care for your teammates, don't you?"

Peter's grin blazed out. "They're like the brothers my mom didn't give birth to. We're really tight. And they're the smartest guys I know. If anyone can figure out how to stop this thing, it's them."

The small smile firmed at that, and there was an inexplicable ounce of pride in it. "I have every confidence in your abilities, Peter. I wouldn't have asked the four of you out here otherwise. How did you all meet?"

The taller man gave a short laugh. "Well, Egon and I met first at Columbia during the second semester of my freshman year. We'd given our history teacher Professor Turner a hard time early on so he figured he'd get revenge on us by pairing us off for a project that was worth almost three quarters of our grade. I was Mister Popularity, frat boy, captain of the football team, and all-around BMOC. Egon was a lab rat extraordinaire, science prodigy, and all-around nerd first class. I was sure he was going to treat me like a typical jock - all muscles and no brain - and he was sure I was going to treat him like a typical book worm - all brains and nothing else. He was also sure I wouldn't even try to pull my own weight and would take half the credit for whatever project he managed to finish.

"I guess what insulted me the most, since I couldn't really blame him for the assumption considering that was exactly the kind of image I was trying so hard to project, was that he gave me the most useless tasks even after we agreed on a topic after an hour's worth of a pretty in-depth talk." Peter shook his head ruefully. "I don't know what it is about that man, but no one else quite stirs up my natural curiosity faster than Egon Spengler. And that same curiosity tends to make me ask intelligent questions even when that's the last thing I want to do. But he still handed me jobs that a trained monkey could do without working up a sweat. I reamed him out and stormed off. He eventually came after me, we did the project, and thus a friendship began."

"Sounds like it only got better from there, though. Doctor Spengler seems to respect your intelligence quite a bit, quips and slams aside." Felicia gave him a knowing look.

Peter grinned. "We found out pretty fast that we have equally wicked senses of humor. That bridged a lot of our differences in personality. And then Ray came and did the rest. Ray joined our little club two years later, during my junior year and Egon's senior one. He was in the honors physics class that Professor Sotelo taught, the same professor that Egon was a teacher's assistant for. In fact, Egon was helping him with an extra credit experiment that was heads and shoulders above where he should have been for a freshman," the brown-haired man explained.

"Anyway, that might not have been quite enough to make a lasting impression on Super Brain Spengler, at least not enough of one to want to start hanging around with him, if they hadn't run into each other in the occult section of an out-of-the-way used book store just a few blocks from campus. They started talking about the subject, found a mutual love, and that was that. Egon introduced him to me, and then we were three."

"So the three of you have always been interested in the supernatural?"

Peter laughed. "Not me, that's for sure. Egon and Ray, yeah, but I was a full-blown skeptic. Ghosts and demons? Yeah, right. I was studying parapsychology because of the psychic stuff, ESP and all that. The powers of the mind have always fascinated me. Even after I got my doctorate I didn't really believe in this stuff. Right before we started the business - and got kicked out of Columbia - Ray dragged me along to the New York Public Library where he and Egon were checking out a sighting, and that's when I saw my first ghost. Boy, did that nasty-looking librarian convince me! Mind you, we ran like a bunch of school girls - no offense - but our two resident geniuses got enough data to confirm their theories that are behind all our equipment. I decided we could make money off of it. Thus, Ghostbusters was born.

"That's how Winston came into the picture. We'd been in business for about a month, busy running our tails off for all but a week of it. We needed more help in the worst way, so we put an ad in the paper. Winston replied. Janine had just finished up the survey part of the process we'd come up with to screen our applicants when Ray and I got back from yet another bust, complete with full traps. Janine introduced him, Ray looked at him and said 'Beautiful. You're hired,' and handed him the full traps. I thought he might bolt at that, but he stuck it out. And I'm really glad he did. So there you go - the four Musketeers."

"All for one and one for all, hmm?" Felicia asked knowingly with a smile. Peter grinned back. "You four are very close. It's a beautiful thing to see."

"It's a beautiful thing to be a part of," Peter agreed.

"I can imagine," she murmured as the rest of the Ghostbusters came back in.

"So, the high-tech supernatural protection grid up and running? You haven't drained the county power plant or anything, have you?" Peter asked, turning his attention to the redhead leading the way into the room.

"No, Peter," Ray responded with fond exasperation. "Besides, everything has its own power source. There's no need to plug anything in."

"We'll be collecting readings all night," Egon told Felicia, ignoring the byplay. "We should be able to make correlations with whatever we can find in our resources in the meantime."

"And if the thing shows up again, we'll know it," Winston concluded, leaning up against the archway separating the living room and the central hall that ran the length of the house from the front door.

"Hey, advance warning is a good thing. I'm all for advance warnings," Peter said with a grin. "So I take it this means we all have to bury our noses in musty old books for the rest of the night, huh?"

"They aren't musty, Peter," Ray protested. "I take good care of my books. But you're right. We need to narrow down what demon this could be so we can take care of it. And there's a few documents on demon bargains I want to check as well. This one is obviously bound to the deal it struck with Hans Decker, to the extent that it couldn't negate it by just killing him and returning to the Netherworld or wherever else it might have come from. That could be something we can work with later."

"I believe I may have something that could help you, Doctor Stantz," Felicia said thoughtfully, one finger lightly tapping her slightly pursed lips. "It's in the attic. I have a translated copy of Hans Decker's diary, the one he left to his son Gerritt. A few generations back, someone decided to translate it since the children weren't taking much interest in learning the mother tongue anymore. I certainly don't speak Dutch. I think there's some things in there that might clear up a few things."

The engineer smiled brightly. "That would be great, Mrs. Atkinson. Just tell me where I can find it and I can go up for it."

"Call me Felicia. And you should find it in the old trunk in the far corner to the right of the center window across from the door."

"And you can call me Ray. I'll be right back, guys."

The older woman watched him take a few steps before saying hesitantly, "Um, Ray? Why don't you take Peter with you? I'd feel better if no one was left alone until this is over, especially while you're dealing with the family things." Her brown eyes were shuttered, just a trace of her worry coming through.

The youngest man turned and looked at her a bit surprised. "Sure, Felicia, if that'll make you feel better. Come on, Peter."

The psychologist sighed and dragged himself off the couch. "No problem, Tex. I think I'd feel better if you weren't alone, too." He gave Winston a serious look as he passed the black man on his way to join Ray. "Watch 'em close, Zed."

"Wouldn't think of doin' anything else, Pete."

Peter nodded and left with the eager occultist.

"I understand about your concern for your son," Egon said after his partners' footsteps had faded away, "but what about these other children?" He gestured to the photographs he had been examining on the mantle.

Felicia smiled. "Those are Jerry's children from his first wife. She died thirteen years before we were married, leaving him to raise his daughter and two sons. Fortunately, we always got along."

"What about your son?" Winston asked. The older woman repeated the explanation of her previous husband and relationship with her son, her entire body tense as she did so. "He doesn't know," the black man whispered, his eyes widening in realization. She nodded in confirmation.

"Hmm," Egon murmured, crossing his arms and cupping his chin thoughtfully in his fist. "That particular fact could work either way for us, depending on how attached the demon is to you specifically, Mrs. Atkinson. I theorize, however, that it isn't able to hunt down anyone but the eldest of your family. But I cannot confirm or deny that, since we don't know where your son is currently, thus suggesting we don't know if the demon has done anything to him."

Felicia swallowed nervously and took in a shaky breath. "I... I don't think it's done anything to him yet," she said quietly. "It seemed smug about being able to threaten me with hurting him. I suppose it could be lying, of course, but..." Her voice trailed off as she shrugged and closed her eyes.

"Hey, we'll hope for the best," Winston said, stepping forward and placing a comforting hand on the older woman's shoulder. "Until we have evidence to believe anything else, we'll go on the fact that it hasn't hurt your son yet. There's no reason to do anything else."

"Winston's right," Egon agreed. He paused as she took a few deep breaths to settle herself before continuing. "Now I know we were upstairs briefly putting our bags away, but would it be possible for you to give us a formal tour of the house? We'll need to know what we're dealing with."

"That and it's a beautiful building," Winston added with a smile. "My dad's in construction back at home, and I know he'd love to look it over. Did Mister Atkinson build it himself?"

The petite woman grinned shakily as she opened her eyes. "Yes, he did. A friend of his was an architect and drew up the plans as a gift and Jerry took advantage of it. I'll show you around, boys. I suppose I'll have to do it again once Ray and Peter get back, but that's okay," she said, pulling herself together with a wink. "I love showing off my home."

Egon and Winston laughed and the three of them began the tour.

* * *

"Oh, wow," Ray breathed as he and Peter entered the large attic and looked around. "I bet there are tons of neat things we'd find if we started going through all these boxes, not to mention the trunks. A real piece of history, right here in the attic."

Peter eyed the different trunks interspaced with the piles of boxes warily. "That's great, Ray. At least we know Felicia didn't do the summoning. I'd hate to face another attic like Mrs. Faversham's. And this isn't nearly as cluttered. Where's that diary supposed to be?"

The redhead pointed in the right direction. "That far corner, to the right of the window across the way." He led them over to the correct flat-topped trunk, opening it without any problems. "I'm surprised it wasn't locked."

"Oh, come on, Tex, we're in the middle of nowhere. Who'd come all this way to rob a house? Well, without knowing what the score was, at any rate. You find anything yet?" the psychologist asked as his partner knelt before the trunk and rooted around through the miscellaneous books, pictures, and papers that had been stored inside, being as careful as he could to preserve their well-kept condition.

"Lots of great stuff, but not what we're looking for yet. Oh, wait, here it is." Ray pulled a medium-sized, leather bound book out of the box and shut the lid, turning around to sit on the floor with his back against the chest. "Someone went through a lot of expense to have this done," the occultist commented. "Leather bound and gold-embossed lettering. Impressive."

Peter nodded as he sat on the trunk and looked over Ray's shoulder. "You can say that again. 'The Diary of Hans Decker.' Simple, but effective. Do we take this downstairs now?" He couldn't seem to take his eyes off the book.

"I'm going to look through it first and make sure it has what we're looking for. It'll be nice to have a first-hand account of the summoning - it should help a lot in figuring out how to break the curse." The stocky man began leafing through the pages, as carefully as he had been before with the rest of the papers.

Soon the both of them were caught up in their client's ancestor's tale of his desire to be more than he was, and his horror and self-loathing when he discovered what the price was that he would have to pay. "His blood, his blood, Johann's blood. I think I will see his blood staining my hands until the day I meet my end and face judgment for what I have wrought upon the true wealth I had always had, but was too blind to see. Catherine and Johann cared not for ostentatious wealth and positioning in society. Why could I not see the truth before I lost it all? My heart, the heart that was embodied by my beloved wife and child, was all that mattered, and it is gone, rendered lifeless by arcane devices condemned rightfully by the church as pure, Satanic evil. And I made the bargain. I am only fortunate that it negated that same bargain by its actions. Let it suffer. It has done the same for me. Perhaps I will rebuild a family in the future, perhaps its curse will come into effect, but they will have warning. I will not accept anyone's love until they know the whole, horrid truth. If they can accept me with this festering stain upon my soul, then they are truly heaven-sent, and I would be an even greater fool to turn them away. But only a miracle will bring that about, I know this. Are there any miracles left in this world?"

The two men blinked at the powerful passage, each able to feel the jumble of emotions the author had been feeling when he had penned the lines. They shared a look that reaffirmed their friendship, assuring each other that they were not alone. "Can we finish this downstairs?" Peter whispered, afraid to speak louder as if to do so would be disrespectful to the memory of the source of so much misery. Hans Decker had loved his family and had meant them no harm, but it had come anyway. And he faced it alone. Peter's own inner demons flared up at the thought of that, and he found himself shifting closer to Ray to compensate.

Ray swallowed and shook his head. "I'm sorry, Peter. I need to be sure."

Peter sighed. "Then let's do it, Tex. I hate to say it, but I get the feeling that this needs to be read for this to be able to end." They both went silently back to their task.

"I am surprised by the demon's lack of appearance of late," one of the last entries began. "It used to be that it would appear every month or so and demand its payment to relieve the curse, to protect my son. Then it only came once a year, and now has not made a visit for five. I have dreamed of it, however, and expect it any day. I am old, and it most likely does not have many chances left to obtain what it seeks from me. I have been fortunate enough to survive long enough to have seen my second grandson's birth. Small Izaac has his mother's deep blue eyes and his father's long features. He is a true bundle of joy. Both he and his brother Hans have made my old age a pleasant one, even after losing their grandmother to influenza three years ago. Has it truly been that long? It feels like only yesterday. My age catches up with me at last. I will escape this curse at last, and I willingly face my judgment for enabling it to come into force in the first place. Gerritt understands, and has forgiven me. How he is able to do so is beyond my comprehension. He will be strong enough to face the demon when I am gone. And if his sons inherit only half his strength, they will be more than a match as well. I look forward to the end. Catherine, Johann, and Isabelle wait for me."

Ray and Peter finished the last two entries, and a final word from Gerritt as a message to any of his line that would read the book after him. "Be wary and watch your words. Promise nothing to the creature, for it seeks a way to twist the truth around to its liking. Hold firm, no matter what grief you may have to endure. One of you, someday, will find a way to break this curse, and I wish you all the best in doing so. I only wish I could have done the deed myself, but it was beyond my power. The entire line of Hans Decker stands behind you. Remember that and make us proud."

Ray slowly closed the book and looked over his shoulder at Peter who sat staring at nothing in particular and blinking away a suspicious moisture from his eyes. "Considering that last message, I guess no one who has to face this thing will ever do it alone," the brown-haired man said quietly once he had recovered his composure. A curious expression touched his features. "I get the feeling we have a solution here if we can just figure out what it is. What do you think?"

The redheaded occultist blinked in shock. "You think so, too? That's great, Peter! I think we should take this down and let the others read it. Maybe Egon and Winston can get that something we're missing." He got to his feet as Peter did, pausing before continuing on. "Did you feel that, Peter? Almost like we were reliving it with him. I hope I never have to worry about losing someone I love to a demon like that. That would be awful."

Peter put his arm around his younger friend's shoulders as they made their way out of the attic. "That it would, Tex, and that's why we're gonna stop this thing. So no one has to go through that again." Ray smiled and nodded before they continued on to join the others.


	3. Chapter 3

_Here we go again with chapter three! Enjoy, and feel free to let me know what you think!_

* * *

"There you two are. We were beginning to think we'd have to send a search party after you." Winston smiled from his seat on the couch, a large tome sitting open on his lap, as Peter and Ray walked into the living room.

"I take it you were reading the diary," Egon suggested from his position in the chair across from Winston. He closed the book that he had been looking through, revealing it to be Tobin's Spirit Guide. "We would have moved our work to the dining room table, but we didn't think you would be very long."

"Gee, sorry about that, Egon," Ray said contritely. Then his face lit up as he took the diary out from under his arm. "But this turned out to be a really great find! Hans describes everything! Peter and I both think there could be an answer in here, but we're not sure exactly what it is. Maybe if the both of you read it, you'd see something we didn't."

"You both read it?" Winston asked, shooting a questioning glance at Peter.

The psychologist shrugged. "Wasn't much else to do but look over Ray's shoulder. And it turned out to be really interesting. Really powerful, too."

"Powerful?" Egon's brows furrowed and he pulled out his PKE meter, aiming it at the book Ray held. It reacted. "Hmm."

"Uh, diaries aren't supposed to do that, are they, Egon?" Peter asked warily, his eyes wide.

"Especially translated versions of them," Winston agreed, looking every bit as nervous as the brown-haired man beside him.

"The meter suggests residuals," the blond physicist explained, adjusting one of the knobs. "And not even very strong ones at that. How very odd."

"Hey, where's Felicia?" Ray asked, undaunted by the latest development.

"Figuring out what's for supper. I just checked on her five minutes ago. She'd been pacing around here, asking questions every time we paused on a page, and finally decided there had to be something else she could do." The black man marked his page with the ribbon glued into the binding and shut the book he had been looking through. "Hey, Pete, why don't I show you where all the equipment is? We'll let these two figure out what those residuals mean while we're gone." He stood.

"I suppose that'll work," the psychologist agreed a little too quickly. "I need a chance to stretch my legs anyway. Don't let anyone fool you, Zed. Sitting on a trunk for long periods of time isn't comfortable."

"That's an excellent idea, Winston," Egon commended his friend, looking up briefly from the meter he was fine-tuning. "This way Peter will have no excuse to be left out of the rotation to check the equipment tonight." His pale blue eyes sparkled, although they held a knowing glint. Peter merely made a face at him.

"So what do you think, Egon?" Ray asked as he handed over the diary after Winston grabbed Peter and left.

"Hmm." The blond man narrowed his eyes thoughtfully at the new set of readings the meter was giving him. "I believe I would have to say this signifies not so much a bound entity, but a lingering presence. Nothing substantial enough to suggest a complete ghost, but more like an imprint. And I would say multiple sources."

Ray's brown eyes grew wide. "Wow! Maybe it's like all the Deckers leave a piece of themselves when they read the diary! Like the curse connects them all!"

"That's a possibility, Raymond," Egon said as he began skimming through the pages. "It's possible that a connection is formed while the descendant is living, transforming itself into PK energy upon their death." He quickly read the message Gerritt had left on the last page. "And this could be the source. Gerritt most likely studied the occult to undo what his father had begun, then left this message to all who would come after him. Would it be possible for this to be a trigger for a spell to form the kind of connection I was speaking of?"

The occultist considered it. "I think so, but it would have to be very powerful to have stayed around this long, especially potent enough to still make the link. But with a tight enough focus..." He stepped over to where Egon and Winston had piled the books he had brought along for research and pulled out one of the tomes. "I think you can cut down on the energy you need to make a spell like that work if you narrow the target," the younger man said as he read. "Obviously something that would affect anyone who read it would require an enormous power source to last for any length of time. But this would only be for descendants of Hans Decker. That's not too many people."

Egon frowned as he considered that. "I don't know, Ray. There's no way to estimate how many children a couple may have. For all we know there could be millions of descendants."

"But only one that matters." Ray found the section he was looking for and began perusing it more closely. "I get the feeling that this family tree doesn't have a lot of branches. The demon would probably make sure of that. Makes its job easier. That way it doesn't have to keep track of that many people to figure out who's the oldest and who it should be demanding a soul from. Or who's still alive."

"A marvelous theory, Ray, and quite correct." The two scientists turned around, surprised, to see Felicia Atkinson standing in the doorway between the dining and living rooms. "As far as everything I've been told, the demon tends to use 'extra' children as warnings for the eldest Decker. The threat to have the blood of my line is not an idle one, gentlemen."

"I assure you, Mrs. Atkinson, we were not working under the assumption that it was," Egon said reassuringly.

The lady smiled tightly. "I know. And I think I know what you mean by the diary making a connection. I've always felt something from the book ever since the first time I read it. But why would I get that from the translation? If there was some sort of spell on the original, why would it come through from the copy?"

Egon and Ray shared a look at that. "I forgot about that," the redhead admitted a bit sheepishly. "How would the spell get transferred? That doesn't make sense."

"Mrs. Atkinson, I need you to be completely honest with me. Does your family have a history of dealings with the occult, other than the present situation?" The physicist held the woman's gaze with a serious one of his own.

Felicia took a deep breath and released it. "I can't be sure. But the rumor is they have. I personally have never researched those kinds of things, and I don't believe my mother did either. But she mentioned something about her grandfather and the occult books he had hidden away in his attic. When her grandmother found them after his death she had them burned. She was a very devout Christian and said they were the devil's tools."

"Was he the one that did the translation?" Ray asked.

The woman blinked. "Yes, I believe he was. His two children knew Dutch, but they had learned it under protest. I think that's when he realized that if he wanted to pass down the information from the diary it would need to be in a language his descendants would understand." Her brown eyes narrowed. "Are you suggesting that my great-grandfather transferred the spell at the end of the book when he translated it? That's why he had all those spell books?"

Ray shrugged. "It seems the most logical explanation. That would also explain why it's still as potent as it is. The spell isn't over two hundred years old." He stopped and thought for a moment. "Do you think the spell is activated just by reading it, or is it by touch?"

"What do you mean exactly?"

"Do you have to be holding the book for the spell to take effect, or could you just read the trigger passage?"

Felicia frowned as she considered it. "I think you have to be holding it. I remember reading the diary over my mother's shoulder as she read it aloud to me when I was little, and nothing really happened. It was very realistic for me, like I was reliving it with Hans, but nothing beyond that. When I read it myself years later, it was different. There was a kind of click inside my mind that hadn't happened before."

"I would say that is quite suggestive that your theory is correct, Ray," Egon said thoughtfully.

Ray nodded. "I'd say so, too. I know what she's talking about, about the strange feelings while you're reading the book. Peter and I felt just the same way."

A blond eyebrow rose. "You felt a click?"

"I'm not sure. But it felt like I was reliving what Hans went through."

"What about Peter? Did he feel any sort of click?"

"I don't think he would have, even on the off chance he was somehow descended from Hans. He never held the diary." Neither scientist noticed Felicia straighten and swallow nervously at the turn the discussion had taken.

"Hmm. I'll have to find out exactly what Peter felt when he and Winston return from checking the equipment. What were you looking up, Ray?"

"Oh, just a chapter on lineage-based spells. This old edition of Magick and Spell Casting is a great resource for this kind of thing. It says here that when used as a focus, a bloodline can be one of the strongest magical bonds. That would explain why the spell Gerritt used only needed to be refreshed when the diary was translated instead of completely recast. The readings don't suggest anything more than that."

"I think I'm glad you boys are on my side," Felicia said with a grin, having relaxed once again against the doorframe.

"You guys are out to kill me, aren't you?" Peter's voice said as the front door opened and the two remaining Ghostbusters returned from their tour. "Did everything have to be placed so far apart?" Felicia straightened at the sound of the men's return.

"We needed to cover the immediate area thoroughly, Peter," Egon explained patiently as the psychologist entered the living room. "Besides, you're the one always going on about how the ladies appreciate a good physique. Consider this good exercise for a good cause."

"You are sadistic, Doctor Spengler. Has anyone ever told you that before?"

"Oh, just plant yourself, Venkman," Winston said from behind him as he shoved the brown-haired man further into the room and walked in after him. "The walk didn't kill you."

"Maybe not this time, but repeated exposure? I can't guarantee anything."

"If you boys are done playing, you should probably get back to those books. I'm scared the demon could come back at any time." The silver-haired woman smiled weakly.

"We're sorry, Mrs. Atkinson. We didn't mean to make you think we weren't taking this seriously," Winston apologized.

"Winston's right. Sometimes we just joke around a bit to release some stress. We work better that way." Peter gave Felicia a sympathetic grin. "But we'll get the job done. That's a promise from Doctor Venkman."

She gave him a soft smile. "I know. I'm the one who should be sorry for overreacting. And I want all of you to call me Felicia. There's no need to be so formal."

The black man grinned. "You got it, Felicia. We'll get back to those books and stop this thing."

"I believe in you, I really do. I'm going to work on dinner. Could I speak with you for a moment, Peter?" He nodded and followed her out of the room.

"What did you need?" the psychologist asked once the pair reached the kitchen.

Intense brown eyes met concerned and anxious emerald greens. "I was hoping you'd be willing to run a quick errand for me, actually. I've been looking through the cupboards and I'm not sure I'll have enough for everyone. Could you run into town and pick up some groceries? They weren't part of the supplies I grabbed when we stopped on the way back here."

Peter narrowed his eyes. "Can't we just have something light and run in for something tomorrow morning? That's assuming nothing happens tonight, of course."

"I'd rather you'd all eaten well if something does happen tonight. You'll need all the energy you can get. Will you go?"

The brown-haired man looked at the woman in front of him carefully, hurt blossoming in his eyes. "This is because of the jokes, right? You don't think I can do the job, do you?"

Felicia drew back, startled. "No, that's not it at all. I just meant..."

"I'm a founding member of this team, and I'll prove to you I'm just as capable of finding answers as the rest of them. Doctor Peter Venkman is a man who can pull his own weight, jokes to lighten the tension aside. You'll see." He gave her one last piercing look, then spun on his heel and walked purposefully out of the kitchen.

The sliver-haired lady stared after him, her shoulders slumping as she realized her mistake. "I only wanted to be sure," she whispered once Peter was gone. "Because I'm afraid I could be right."

* * *

"So you're saying there's a spell on this diary that links all the descendants of Hans Decker, is that right?" Peter asked Ray and Egon a little bit later once he'd calmed himself down by silently burying himself in one of the books the occultist had brought along. The brown-haired man had stepped over to the end table Egon had placed the translated book on earlier and picked up the tome in question, his eyes contemplating it carefully.

"That's what we think, Peter," Ray responded from his seat on the couch after sharing a look with Egon. "Felicia said something about feeling a kind of click when she held and read it, and you know Egon picked up readings from it. That's probably what Gerritt meant when he said, 'the entire Decker line stands behind you'."

"A click, huh? That's weird." Peter frowned as he ran a light finger across the gold-embossed title on the cover.

Winston gave a short laugh. "That's one way to put it."

The psychologist slowly returned to his seat and sat back down, his eyes never leaving the diary as he turned to the last page and reread what was written there. "The answer's in here. I know it." Without warning he jerked around, emerald greens searching for something over his left shoulder.

"Peter, what's wrong?" Ray asked, leaning forward in concern. "Did you see something?"

"No," the man replied slowly. "I thought I felt something back there."

Egon immediately brought his PKE meter to bear. "I'm not detecting anything beyond the residuals from the journal."

Peter sighed. "It feels real, but I can't say I'm surprised. After those nightmares I've been having, it's no wonder I'm jumpy." He rubbed his face with his hands. "I hate this. I hate feeling like this. I have to be at the top of my game. I have to."

The others looked at him sympathetically. "Why don't you go ahead and take a short nap before dinner?" Egon suggested. "We've started to narrow things down a bit, and you'll be able to assist more if you're better rested."

The brown-haired man looked at the physicist sharply. "You're not saying I can't pull my weight, are you? Because I can, nightmares or no nightmares."

The blond drew back from the defensive tone. "I'd never suggest that, Peter. At least not seriously. You know that. I just thought you might feel better with a little more rest."

"Yeah, Peter. We all know you always come through when we need you," Ray added earnestly. "Go ahead and take your nap. We'll make sure there's plenty of work for you to do when you get up, I promise." The redhead gave his touchy friend a bright grin.

"You would," Peter returned with a sigh as he let himself relax. "All right. Far be it from me to turn you guys down when you're actually encouraging me to sleep. But I'll help again after dinner."

"We wouldn't have it any other way, Pete," Winston said with a smile. "Now get going. There's a pillow with your name on it calling for you."

"_Something's_ calling to me," Peter muttered to himself as he headed for the second floor.

Egon cleared his throat, causing his younger teammate to look back just before he reached the stairs. "We might need the diary, Peter."

"Sorry, Spengs." He handed the tome to Ray, who met him halfway back to the sitting room. "Thanks, Tex. See you in a little while."

"You bet, Peter. Sleep well."

Once the psychologist was gone, the other three Ghostbusters shared a worried look. "I don't like where this is heading," Winston said seriously. "Pete was worked up even before we came out here, and ever since he talked to Felicia he's been even more driven."

"I have to wonder what was said," Egon said with a shake of his head.

"Maybe it was about all his quips," Ray suggested thoughtfully. "While we know he's still working and giving it his all, Felicia doesn't know how we work. She might have misunderstood."

"Possibly," conceded the blond physicist. "However, that doesn't quite explain Peter's single-mindedness. He would be more likely to explain his motives rather than get offended and try to prove himself."

Winston gazed through the dining room at the swinging door that led to the kitchen. "I don't think we're going to find out the specifics any time soon. I doubt either of them is going to be inclined to explain. We're talking about two stubborn people."

Egon sighed. "You're most likely correct, Winston. We should get back to these books. I have the distinct feeling everything's building up to a boiling climax, and it's going to happen soon. We're going to need to be ready." The other two solemnly agreed, and the trio returned to their research.

* * *

An hour or so later, Felicia walked into the quiet living room to find three of the four men totally absorbed in the books they were reading. She smiled slightly at the sight, then did a double take as she realized there was someone missing. "Um, gentlemen, where's Peter?" There was a tremor in her tone.

The trio jumped in their seats and brought their heads up sharply at the unexpected interruption. "Oh, wow, Felicia, I didn't hear you come in," Ray said a bit breathlessly, a hand on his chest. "Peter's taking a nap upstairs before dinner."

"Oh." The silver-haired woman bit her lower lip for a second then smiled. "Well, it's a good thing I came in then. Supper's finished. If one of you could wake up Peter and bring him down, I'll get everything set up in the dining room."

"I'll get him," Ray offered as he marked his page and closed the book he'd been studying.

"We'll be happy to assist you with your preparations," Egon added. Winston nodded his agreement.

Felicia's smile turned into a grin. "That would be fine. Everything's in the kitchen."

The auburn-haired occultist watched the others disappear into the other room with a small smile, then headed up the stairs to perform his voluntary task. He was slightly surprised at the lack of snoring in the hall, especially when he saw Peter's door had been left open a crack. Stepping softly so as not to startle his friend awake, Ray made his way to second bedroom from the stairs on the right and poked his head inside.

Before he said anything, light brown eyes widened in shock at what they saw, and the man's words froze on his lips. Peter was lying only slightly sprawled on the bed, the covers mostly intact hiding his legs and torso from sight, and his lips were moving. If Ray listened carefully, he could just make out pieces of words quietly drifting through the room. Concerned about the normally restless sleeper's motionlessness, he moved inside, making his way quickly to the psychologist's side.

Even when he leaned over the supine man, Ray couldn't understand what was being said, although he did determine that it seemed as though Peter was carrying on some sort of conversation with somebody. The engineer regretted not bringing a meter along with him. There was nothing to see, and he didn't get the impression of another presence in the room. Maybe his friend was just dreaming. Bad dreams were what had made the guys send Peter up here in the first place, after all.

Well, he wasn't going to let the man suffer through any more of those. "Peter," Ray said quietly, reaching out a hand to shake him gently. "Peter, wake up."

Emerald green eyes immediately sprang open as Peter took a deep breath just short of a gasp. "What? What's going on?"

"Peter, it's okay. It's me, Ray."

The brown-haired man turned his head sharply to the left, then relaxed when he saw who had awoken him. "Oh, hey, Tex. What's up?"

Ray smiled. "Dinner. Felicia's got everything ready, and Egon and Winston are helping her set it up in the dining room. Come on down and eat."

Peter nodded and sat up with a yawn, stretching like a cat. "I think I feel better. This nap was a good idea. Thanks." He gave the standing man a lazy smile.

"Then it was all worth it. Now you can help us hit the books even harder once we're done eating." The redhead grinned.

The other man groaned as he swung his legs over the edge of the bed and prepared to stand. "You slave driver, you. I take it you left your whip at home?" He shook his head as Ray laughed and offered him a hand up. "Lead on, master. The smell of good food is calling, and far be it from me to let it go to waste." Peter stood, ruffled the other man's hair, then led the way out of the room and down the stairs.

* * *

Dinner was a somewhat quiet affair, an unspoken truce agreed to by Peter and Felicia, signified by the tentative attitude each presented to the other, and a brief distraction provided by listening to Felicia's stories about her thirty-five-year stay at the ranch. When people were finished eating, Ray and Winston offered to clear the table and do the dishes while Peter leaned back lazily in his chair and said that he had been hoping they'd say that. Ray merely threw a dinner roll at him.

"I suppose we should return to the task at hand," Egon said seriously as the two helpers took the first load into the kitchen and Peter munched on the roll that had been used as a weapon against him. "We believe we've narrowed down the possibilities to five different demons, based on your description. There weren't any artists' renderings, but you may be able to choose this particular demon from the entries we found."

"I'll do whatever I can to help, Egon."

"You let us know if any of this starts to bother you, okay?" Peter told Felicia solemnly after swallowing the first half of his bread. "There are some big issues on your plate right now, and I don't want you to push yourself too far. That's what _we're_ here for."

The older woman smiled. "And I'm very grateful for that, Peter. But I'll be fine. I was a bit shaken up at first, because I knew that I didn't have a whole lot of time left, and that my son didn't know about the curse. But now I'm not just sitting around worrying about it - I'm doing something. And I've brought in the best people to help me. Thank you for your concern."

"Hey, any time." The psychologist gave the woman a soft smile. "So, Spengs," he continued, turning his attention to the blond seated next to him as Ray and Winston returned to finish clearing the table, "what do we do next? Give the books to Felicia and let her pick out the suspect?"

"That would make the most sense," Ray said just before he got to the swinging door between the rooms. "We marked all the pages, right, Egon?"

"Of course, Raymond. I'll bring them in here, as well as the rest of the sources we've marked as the most relevant to this case."

"Great," the redhead responded with a smile. "We'll finish these up as fast as we can and help." He disappeared into the kitchen.

Felicia looked after him with an amused gaze. "He really enjoys this, doesn't he? The job, the work?"

"That's our Ray," Peter replied fondly. "He has a level of enthusiasm for this stuff that's in a class of its own." He chuckled. "We usually have to run to keep up with him."

"That's very true," Egon agreed. "But now let's get the books and start tonight's research." The physicist rose from his chair and began gathering a number of the tomes he and Ray had been sorting through earlier.

"You know, work is a four-letter word, Egon," Peter said distastefully even as he got up to help.

"And effort is a six-letter word," Egon responded. "Neither of which will harm you in any way, Peter." He began stacking books in Peter's arms.

"Says you, Egon," the brown-haired man grunted when he had a full load and started to stumble back to the dining room. "Says you."

* * *

"Okay, that's the third time Ray's smacked his head against his book in the last forty-five minutes - it's time for bed," Winston protested later that night.

"No, no, that's okay," the redhead protested, blinking furiously. "I'm fine now, I'm awake."

Peter laughed. "Tex, that's what you said the last two times. I'm with Winston. Time for beddie-bye." He closed his book after marking the page with the old ribbon attached to the binding and stood up. "All good little Ghostbusters - and their clients," he said with a tentative wink to Felicia who just smiled and shook her head, "should be counting sheep, not reading about undead ones." He stretched and set the book aside.

"Really?" Ray asked, perking up and jumping to his feet. "Undead sheep?"

The psychologist sighed. "No, Ray, I was making an example. Let's go to bed."

"Peter is quite right, Raymond. From the descriptions of the two demons Felicia has narrowed the possibilities down to, I'd say that we will require every ounce of energy we can get to face it tomorrow. I believe that we should continue our original course of action and stay in each of the guest bedrooms, however. That way we should be able to use our PKE meters to detect the arrival of the demon no matter which direction it may come in, as well as covering each section of our perimeters if we keep our windows open to more easily hear the alarms if they should be triggered during the night."

"But what about Felicia?" Peter asked, his eyes narrowing slightly in concern.

"I'm quite safe, Peter," the woman in question said quietly. "It can't kill me if it wants me to give up my soul freely. If it harms me it completely negates the original bargain."

"She's correct, Peter. Felicia should be quite safe. But we will all have our proton packs with us in our rooms just to be sure. I believe the hall is not that long. We could all be at her side in a matter of seconds if necessary." The blond physicist adjusted his red-rimmed glasses as he also stood along with Winston and Felicia.

The brown-haired man let out an explosive breath. "I'm not sure I like this, but let's do it. I want those meters to be as loud as they can be. We're probably going to need all the notice we can get."

"You got it, Peter," Ray agreed quickly.

The five of them made their way up the stairs and down the hall to the left. Felicia stood in the doorway directly at the far end and watched the others step into the rooms on either side of the hall. "You'll know if it comes tonight?" she asked Egon, who stood in the open door of the room to her right taking one last reading of the second floor.

"Most definitely," the physicist reassured her, eyes still on the display of his PKE meter. "Each of us has a meter in his room turned up to the highest volume - not even Peter could sleep through that - and all the equipment we have along the perimeter is similarly configured."

"You know, I heard that, Spengs," Peter said, sticking his head out of the door directly across the hall. He'd already changed into his tee shirt and boxers, a robe thrown loosely over his shoulders. "And he's right about most of it," he directed toward Felicia. "With all those gizmos out there ready to blare like a fleet of fog horns, there's no way we'll miss Mister Tall, Dark, and Evil's next appearance. We should just be glad you _do_ live out in the middle of nowhere. We'd really tick off your neighbors otherwise." He grinned cockily.

"Did you get anything with that scan?" Ray said through a yawn, stepping back into the hall in a set of short-sleeved, blue and white striped pajamas from the bedroom next to Peter's. "I've got mine set up on the bed stand."

"Same here," Winston added, stepping up and leaning in the doorway across from Ray. "And my pack's ready at the end of my bed."

"I think that's a ditto all around," Peter said as the other two nodded their agreement.

"I'm not reading any traces of current demonic activity," Egon announced. "I suspect it will wait for you to begin dreaming, Felicia. That's what occurred previously."

"True," the silver-haired lady said thoughtfully. "It didn't come last night or the night before."

"Well, then, let's get to bed. I have a feeling we have a long day ahead of us tomorrow," Peter said ruefully. He waited for the murmurs of agreement, then was the last one to retreat inside his room.

* * *

The house quickly grew quiet - too quiet, someone would have said had anyone been awake to notice. It was a couple hours past midnight when the bright moonlight that filtered through the window at the end of the hall to the right of the stairs dimmed considerably, causing shadows to flicker to life across the floor and walls. A group of them near the top of the stairs began to coalesce, thickening into a human-like figure. Once it was complete, the violet glow from its eyes was the only clear light in the hall, and it started to move toward the door of the master bedroom.

There was no sound to mark its slow passage, its head twitching slightly as though it were sniffing the air, some scent lingering to tantalize the creature seductively. When it reached the halfway mark, directly in the middle of the four doors on either side of the hall, it paused and a low, evil chuckle filled the air. The violet light dimmed for a moment, as though it had closed its eyes briefly, then returned, followed closely by the opening of all four of the Ghostbusters' doors.

The shadowy creature chuckled again as the four men stared at it in astonishment. Egon quickly dashed back inside and returned with his PKE meter in hand, staring at it as though he couldn't believe what he was seeing. "Fee, fi, fo, fum..." the demon said tauntingly, its eyes quickly flickering at and dismissing Winston and Egon on its left side. "I smell the blood of a..." Its gaze lingered longer along the right side as it spoke, pausing for a moment on the wide-eyed Ray and then longer on the hard-faced Peter. They could all feel the smile radiating from the shadow, although they couldn't see it.

"No, no, where would be the fun in that?" it purred, eyes darting again to the pair on the left side of the hall. All four men were frozen in place. "If you don't know, then I won't say. I _am_ enjoying this little display, however." It stepped closer to Egon, who somehow managed to drag his pale blue eyes up to the creature's face. "Such a fair one. I haven't had much experience with one like you." The shadows of its arm reached out and caressed the tall man's cheek, chuckling when it felt the shudders the physicist unsuccessfully tried to fight down.

The violet eyes were suddenly blazing toward the right side of the hall as the head turned to apparently look over its shoulder, focused on the fuming psychologist. "You don't care for this much, do you? I can feel your hate radiating from you. Would you prefer I choose another?" It chuckled again as Peter fought to force words past the strange compulsion that held him still and failed. Four steps moved him away from Egon and next to Winston. "Dark skin," it murmured seductively. "Even more rare to me than the pale one. I have only witnessed your kind. I have never had the pleasure of tasting, experiencing you. I would enjoy letting you become my first. Wouldn't you?" It aimed the last question at Peter, ignoring the glare from the dark brown eyes that bore into it from the man whose chest it was allowing its wispy fingers to absently trail down.

"The hate grows stronger. What a beautiful feeling. Can I make you feel more?" The demon turned around, completely dismissing both men it had previously paid such close attention. "Ah, one more," it breathed, locking the glowing violet orbs on Ray's frozen form. The light brown eyes hardened as they watched the creature's approach. "Such innocence, yet I see great knowledge. Barely any fear. You know what I can do to you, don't you? The embodiment of an amazingly intriguing dichotomy is... appealing. Don't you agree?"

Peter could feel his insides boiling over as he watched the shadowy hands run lingeringly up and down the younger man's arms. If only he could do something! At this point he was ready to take this thing on with only his bare hands. Inexplicitly he thought he could feel the presence of a crowd behind him, watching and waiting - even slightly encouraging. Unable to turn and check the accuracy of his senses, he merely accepted the feeling and focused on doing what he could to help his friend. "No," he managed to force out past the energy that held him, using every ounce of his strength to do so. "Leave him alone."

The dark, cowled head turned to face the brown-haired man completely, the purple eyes wide. The surprise was gone quickly, leaving everyone to wonder if they had seen it at all. "Is that what you truly want?" It slid over to stand directly in front of the last man. "Shall I lavish my attentions on you then?"

Emerald green eyes darkened to almost black as the demon brought itself face-to-face with them, only a fraction of an inch away. "Go back to the hell you came from."

"If I go, I'll take you with me." Soft, evil laughter echoed out from beneath the void-black cloak.

"All right, that's enough of your games," Felicia interrupted as her door flew open. She stood in the open doorway like a Fury unleashed, her hair wild from sleep, her fists on her hips, and her dark brown eyes flashing in what little light there was. "You've come here for me, and I tell you I will not give you my soul. And I will stop you. There's no doubt of that." A hard, wicked smile grew on her features. "I found the means to stop you."

The evil chuckle grew into full-blown laughter. "You join the rest of your foolish ancestors, Felicia, in that belief," it said as it straightened to its full height. "There is no way to stop me. Only by giving me what I want will I release you and your family from this curse, and you would be wise to accept that before I have to make an example. Your blood is so near, Felicia. You are fortunate I am patient enough to continue to offer you chances to come to your senses."

"That's only because you need her soul more than you need the blood," Ray snapped defiantly, Felicia's appearance apparently loosening the hold of the spell that had overcome the men earlier.

The violet orbs focused on the occultist. "Both are sweet. But I am not here to debate this point or any other with you. Felicia has what I want, and the power to avert another tragedy for the Decker line." It turned back to the woman in the doorway of the master bedroom. "Ponder this, Felicia. I will return." With that, the purple light grew brighter until the humans in the hall were forced to shut their eyes and turn their heads to avoid being blinded. When it faded, the shadowy demon was gone, the moonlight had returned, and all four meters were squealing as though it were the next coming of Gozer.

"All right, Spengs," Peter began after the meters had been taken care of, his rage and frustration barely in check, "what's the deal here? The meters were supposed to warn us when that thing was coming back for a return engagement, right? What happened?"

"The meters were working perfectly, Peter," Egon responded gravely. "But I hypothesize that the demon laid an enchantment on the area that blanketed any sound but any that it wished to allow through. That would explain why, while we could not hear them at first, the meters were nearly deafening once the demon had left."

"Egon's right, Peter," Ray agreed, checking the readings from his own meter. "And I also think that blanketing effect is what kept us from saying or doing anything until Felicia confronted him. Although I don't understand how you broke through." He paused for a moment in consideration. With a shrug, he continued. "My meter says we're dealing with a high-end Class Seven demon. This is going to be a tough one." He grinned as he brought his head up from the display, bouncing back quickly from the encounter. "Isn't it great?"

"I concur on the type of entity we're dealing with," Egon said as Peter and Winston shook their heads at Ray's last comment. "However, with these readings, as well as a first-hand view of the creature," he paused as an involuntary shudder passed through his body, "we should be able to choose which demon it is from the two choices we've narrowed our list to."

"Well, at least something positive came out of the experience," Winston said, resignation in his voice and his gaze avoiding any of the others.

"So what do we do now? It can get around our defenses anytime it wants to." Peter's furious scowl morphed into an alarmed look. "Hey, what about the equipment we've got around the house and yard? What happened to that stuff? I don't hear it going off."

"You're right, Peter," Egon said urgently. "We need to check on them immediately." He began to stride purposely down the hall after putting on his slippers and proton pack, Ray and Winston right behind him.

Peter paused on his way to take up the rear of the party. Looking seriously at Felicia he asked with concern, "Are you going to be okay while we do this? I can stay if you don't want to be alone."

The lady smiled shakily. "I'll be fine, Peter. Go help your friends. Like I said before bed, I'm perfectly safe."

The psychologist grinned in return, his sense of control returning as the sense of presence around him faded. "And feisty, too. I've always liked my women feisty." He wiggled his eyebrows and took off after the others as Felicia laughed, the sound weak with reaction.

* * *

Ray wandered down the stairs from the second floor for the third time during his watch later that night, his eyes darting around somewhat warily. He had taken the first watch when Winston had suggested they do so for the rest of the night after they had checked the equipment left outside. The occultist was still excited at the prospect of the challenge this demon and curse presented, easily overcoming the thoughts of what it had threatened him with earlier, and he even had some ideas that just might work to weaken the bond enough to be effective. But he still didn't want the thing to get the jump on him.

He shifted the proton pack he still wore as he reached the ground floor and took the few steps into the living room. Now that the demon was gone the moonlight brightened the room, causing the frames on the mantle to catch his eye. The redhead walked over and let his eyes rove over the various prints, smiling at the sight of Felicia and an older man he presumed was her second husband and three younger adults he guessed were her step-children sitting around a table at a restaurant grinning widely.

He picked up that particular picture to look at it more closely, recognizing the decor of the background to be from a fancier place in Manhattan. The establishment hadn't changed it much in the eight years since the shot had been taken, if the tag marking the birthday party it was documenting was correct. Actually, he and the guys had their last anniversary party there, celebrating five years of ghostbusting. It was a nice place.

As Ray was returning the photo to its original position, an older picture that had been hidden somewhat got his attention. He traded frames, and took in the image of the little boy caught with his hand in the cookie jar. Something about him seemed familiar...

His fingers shifted along the back, knocking one of the tabs that held the cardboard backing in place askew. Ray flipped it over, intending to put everything back the way he found it, when he saw the newspaper article poking out. Intrigued, he removed the backing all together and moved closer to the couch to set it all on the coffee table. Once that was done he unfolded the yellowed paper, wondering who "Lorraine" was. Ray's light brown eyes widened when he saw the picture, and his gasp echoed through the quiet room.

"So you recognize it," Felicia's voice said softly from behind him.

"Did you know when you called us?" Ray asked their employer after he had turned to face her.

Her dark brown eyes sparkled with moisture. "No. I had no idea. I never paid all that much attention to what you four were doing in New York, so I never learned your names. And since I hadn't spoken to my son since he was eighteen, I had no way of knowing if he was married or had children. This picture says he got married, but I never heard anything else. I didn't know." The woman's voice was filled with pain from a wound that had obviously never healed.

Ray softened at the sound, his naturally forgiving nature coming to the fore. "Why didn't you try to find out?" he asked gently.

"He didn't want me in his life. I was going to respect his decision. I always hoped time would show him how wrong he had been about me and my feelings for Jerry, but obviously that didn't happen. But I couldn't just root through his affairs without him knowing. If I was going to know about any family he had made, I wanted to hear it from him." Tears had overflowed down her cheeks, but her voice had gained in strength.

"Wow." Ray looked at the picture again and shook his head. "Peter'll never believe this. Never. Not that I think I can blame him. I'm not sure I believe it yet."

"What am I going to do, Ray? Charlie has never forgiven me for what he claims I did to him, and I think it would kill me to have my grandson suffer the consequences of that break. My heart nearly stopped when I saw the way the demon seemed to be focused on him upstairs. I couldn't get him to leave before dinner, and I thought I was about to pay the ultimate price." Felicia sounded desperate and terrified.

Light met dark as their brown gazes collided. "I wish I knew what to tell you, Felicia, but I don't. I think Peter deserves to know, and that you should tell him. And it needs to be soon. This demon will be after him - we've already seen evidence of that."

The woman sighed and dropped her head. "I know you're right, Ray. I want to tell him. I'd like the opportunity to get to know him and have him in my life the way I would have always wanted him to be if I'd known he existed. But I don't want him distracted when he deals with this demon. Do you think that if I tell him, he'll be able to fight this thing?"

"I hadn't thought of that." The redhead pursed his lips as he considered the question. "Peter can be kind of unpredictable sometimes, and I think we're going to need all four of us to put a stop to this creature's threat." He squeezed his eyes shut and frowned. "Boy, this is tough. On one hand, not knowing the danger he's in could put him in even greater danger, but on the other hand, if he finds out why he's in danger his reaction could put him in that greater danger. No matter what, the demon is going to be looking for him to try to force you to give up your soul."

Felicia swallowed before filling the brief silence caused by Ray's return to his thoughts. "If you think Peter could react badly to finding out about his connection to me and the curse, I think his best chance at surviving this would be not to say anything until it's over. You've dealt with demons before, I believe." Ray opened his eyes and nodded in confirmation. "And I'm guessing that Peter is quite capable of handling himself in that kind of situation." Ray nodded again. "So not knowing won't affect his... performance?"

"I wouldn't think so," the occultist replied.

"You have the demon narrowed down to two choices, right?"

"Well, yeah, sure."

"Do you think if we really focused tomorrow morning we could find a solution and end this? Do you think we could save Peter?" Felicia's voice cracked as tears continued to overflow down her cheeks, and her overwhelming concern broke away from her control and completely transformed her features.

Ray's heart broke at the sight and at his own boiling worry for one of his closest friends. "I know we can save Peter, no matter what. But I think we're close to being able to end it. As soon as I get a name and some background on this demon, I'll be able to find out what we need to do to be able to stop it. I know I've got the right books. I just have to find the answer."

"So, do we tell him?" The question was soft and broken.

"I don't think we can afford to. He's going to need to be at the top of his game, and I'm not sure he can be if he's dealing with all the emotions this latest surprise from his dad is going to dredge up. But we have to tell him as soon as possible afterward. You have to promise. I hate the idea of keeping secrets from him." The pain the decision was making him feel was apparent in every line on his face.

Felicia gathered herself together and drew herself to her full height. "I promise, Ray. I promise with every fiber in my being. As soon as it's safe, I'll tell him."

Ray nodded and glanced down at his watch. "We should get back to bed. It's Winston's watch." Ray led Felicia back upstairs after putting away the picture of the young Charlie Venkman, and the rest of the night went by uneventfully.


	4. Chapter 4

_Here comes the next chapter - enjoy, and feel free to let me know what you think!_

* * *

"Are you guys any closer to figuring out which of our two suspects is hounding Felicia?" Peter asked grumpily the next morning after breakfast. He was slouched on the overstuffed chair between the couch and the fireplace in the living room, barely having gotten up in time to eat. The others had been up for a couple hours going through the resource material Ray had brought along, and were now sharing their findings with the recalcitrant man.

"As a matter of fact, yes, Peter," Egon replied from his seat on the couch beside the slumped man, faintly amused. It never ceased to amaze him how much of a morning person his best friend wasn't. "We believe the demon we are facing is an entity by the name of Trevaire. There are some very old references to bargains being struck with the demon, almost always ending with the death of the summoner and the loss of his soul. However, history seems to have lost track of Trevaire in the early eighteenth century, which correlates with Felicia's story of when Hans Decker made his bargain with his summoned demon."

"And based on what we saw of him last night, and what he was able to do, it all adds up to him," Ray added, bouncing slightly in his chair across from Peter on the other side of the fireplace.

"Okay, so now we know who. What do we do next?" the psychologist grumbled, more awake than he had been before.

"We don't have to do anything stupid like summon him, do we?" Winston asked warily, standing next to Ray's chair.

"No, nothing so drastic," the seated occultist responded confidently, his eyes shifting to Peter. "I have something in mind, but I need to look through a few of my books. There should be a ritual to break the bond Trevaire created with the Decker line. I just have to find it. And I will, as soon as possible."

Peter blinked at the fierceness of the vow. "Um, Tex, is there something else I should know about? Why do I get the feeling that was a promise to _me_?"

Ray's light brown eyes widened slightly as the other two Ghostbusters silently waited for the redhead's answer to the questions they obviously would have asked themselves had Peter not beaten them to it. "I just don't want to see anyone get hurt by Trevaire. I mean, Felicia is so worried about her son, and I know you've taken a real fancy to her, Peter. I just want to get this taken care of as soon as I can." He paused to take a breath and eyed his brown-haired friend tentatively. "You _do_ like her, don't you, Peter?"

The psychologist's eyebrows headed for his hairline. "Well, yeah. She's a great lady. Brave and feisty. But why is that so important?"

"I just wanted to make sure I was right," Ray said quickly, jumping to his feet and grabbing a few of his books from the pile next to him as well as the translated diary. "I'm going to go work on this. It shouldn't take too long, not if I study the ritual Hans described carefully. Felicia should be able to point me to somewhere I can work undisturbed." He rushed into the kitchen where their employer was washing the breakfast dishes and putting everything away before anyone could stop him.

Peter sat up as he stared after the younger man. "Something's up with him," he said suspiciously. "Do either of you have a clue what it could be?"

"Got me, Pete," Winston said with a shrug, staring after Ray himself. "But something has him shaken up."

"I would agree with your assessment, Peter," Egon said thoughtfully, rubbing his chin. "There's definitely something he's not telling us. But I don't believe this is the time to press the issue. We should do some more research and try to find weaknesses we can exploit in our next encounter with the entity. And I believe I will analyze the readings from our equipment from last night and see if they will be of any assistance. We must be ready when Ray locates the ritual he is looking for."

Peter frowned. "All right, Egon. We'll do it your way for now. But I'm going to find out what's bugging that guy by the end of the day, see if I don't."

Winston gave him a grin. "I'm with you, man. But for now, start reading. We've got research to do." He tossed the brown-haired man one of the books Ray had left behind. Peter merely caught the tome and stuck his tongue out at the culprit who threw it.

* * *

Hours passed. Egon returned quickly with all the data he needed and spent the time figuring and refiguring the numbers in any number of different ways, hoping one of them would lead him to the solution he sought. Peter and Winston poured over book after book, looking for references to Trevaire and the way he operated. They were after specifics, as they already had a general idea, and Ray had the diary.

Not much had turned up by the time Felicia called them into the dining room for a late lunch, and Ray wouldn't be called away even for food. When Peter would have marched off to find him, to give him a sandwich or two at least, the older woman got in his path and wouldn't be budged. "He's too focused, Peter. Leave him be. I'll make sure he's got something available after you three are finished."

Frustration flew across Peter's expression. "I don't want him to be worrying about hunger pains when we're facing this thing down. And the last thing we need if we're trying to be all sneaky-like is his stomach calling out a homing beacon."

Felicia couldn't help but smile slightly. "I'll make sure tummy rumblings don't give you away. I promise. Now sit down and eat. Or is all my hard work going to go to waste?"

"Come on, Pete," Winston said through a mouthful of chicken salad, having already started to eat. "If you don't, I can't guarantee there'll be anything left for you."

"Winston is correct, Peter," Egon agreed, having swallowed his first bite. "Considering the delicacy of this repast, the odds of remains lingering long enough for you to complete an entire eruptive cycle of your infamous temper are slim indeed." The sparkle in the physicist's eyes was bright as he took another bite of the salad.

"Sadists, the both of you," Peter said with a scowl. "And gluttons. You better leave something for me or you will not like the consequences." He moved to an empty chair and sat down, pulling the last heaping plate to his place. "Now you're sure about Ray?" he asked Felicia over his shoulder, pausing in the act of picking up his fork.

"I said I promised, Peter."

"Good." He grinned and turned back to his meal. "Then I can concentrate on eating these guys under the table."

Felicia chuckled a bit and shook her head. "I'll just go get the lemonade."

An hour after the dishes had been cleared and put away, Egon, Winston, and Peter were again digging through books while Felicia straightened up the downstairs. They all jumped when Ray finally made an appearance. He came from the direction of the kitchen, having been outside in one of the barns to study in peace, and gazed around the room once he entered.

The other three men were shocked. In the place of the Ray Stantz they were all used to, another man stood in his place. This man's face was serious, foreboding, with shadows in his darkened brown eyes. There was no bounce in his step, no sense of bubbling excitement, no joy in the world around him. In the quiet that followed his entrance, the redhead solemnly placed his books and the diary on the table between the matching chairs farthest from the fireplace and regarded each of the others in turn, his guarded gaze lingering longest on Peter.

It was that gaze that halted any questions about the youngest man's earlier comments Peter might have asked. His emerald green eyes narrowed as he took in the sight of his friend, wondering what in the world could have made Ray change his demeanor so dramatically. He quickly placed an elbow in Egon's ribs when the blond would have asked what he wouldn't. Not now. The very air Ray brought with him told the psychologist this was not the time.

"So, Ray, what did you find?" Peter asked, his tone matching the serious mood of the room.

"I found the ritual I'll need to break the bond Trevaire formed with the shedding of Hans Decker's blood. It took me some time to figure out that this was the only option we had with the supplies and equipment we have available." The normally light baritone had sunk to its deeper tones and continued to reflect the aura the man was exuding.

"What kind of ritual is it?" Winston asked, subdued. "What could make you act like this?"

Peter was about to tell Winston that last question could wait until later when Ray responded, "A blood ritual, Winston. To break a demon's bond forged in blood, blood is required. We're going to need to perform a sacrifice." He turned to face Felicia. "Do you have any chickens on the ranch? We'll need one."

As the older lady struggled to regain her composure, just as thrown by the change in the stocky man as his friends were, something clicked for Peter. He'd only experienced this side of Ray twice before, while they were still at Columbia, the first time as students, the second as teachers' assistants. What they were dealing with was Ray Stantz, Occultist in his full-blown glory. This was the man who knew dark, nasty secrets about horrors that even they as Ghostbusters didn't have to face but once in a blue moon. This was the man that contemplated death pacts with creatures too hideous to conceive, that would devour your soul if you were _lucky_. This was the man who could talk about sacrificing an animal in an ancient blood ritual without batting an eye. This was the man that scared Peter to the very core of his being.

"Um, well, yes, Ray," Felicia answered finally, her voice a bit shaky. "I keep a few around for the fresh eggs. I... I take it you'll need one for... this ritual." Her dark brown eyes were wide, the emotions in them a complete jumble.

Ray nodded. "Yes, we will. But I do need to ask one simple question." There was a pregnant pause as he looked around the room again. "Is there anyone else here that can do the actual killing? I just... can't." He gave everyone a sheepish half-smile as his stance finally relaxed.

There was an explosive release of breath from the rest of the crowd as everything went back to normal and the tension in the room was reduced to its previous level. Peter was just glad to see their Ray back, the way he was supposed to be. He'd have to talk to the younger man once this was all over, but for now they had a job to do. However, he still needed to ask one question. "Hey, Tex, I take it this is some pretty nasty stuff. What exactly are we dealing with?"

Ray's smile faded, but the cloak of gloom he had been wearing didn't return. "This is one of the darker rituals I have in my collection, Peter. We're truly calling on dark powers to do what we need to do. And I do mean need, Peter. I really believe that we have to cut the tie to the Decker line before we have any chance of defeating Trevaire. That's where he's drawn his power from for the last two hundred and fifty years. It's what feeds him. And he could use any remaining members to shield him from whatever else we can come up with to defeat him." He sighed, his eyes saying that he recognized his friends' concern as they took them all in once again. "We can't take that chance."

Peter shrugged. "Well, that's just a given. Now who gets to deal with the chicken?"

* * *

In the end Felicia ended up taking care of the barnyard fowl, following precise directions from Ray, who stood behind her facing away, unable to watch. The other Ghostbusters stood by his side, all four of them wearing their proton packs, silently adding their support for both him and Felicia. Once the deed was done, Ray took the gathered blood and strode purposefully to the center of the yard to a clear area with little to no grass due to the regular traffic. Winston stepped up next to him, holding the dark tome the occultist had found the ritual in, open to the appropriate page. The other three people stood back a few steps, doing what they could to stay out of the way, yet be close enough to help if it became necessary.

Peter watched as Ray looked over the foreign words to the somewhat lengthy ritual, every inch of him ready to burst. Ever since the younger man had declared there was a way to break the bond and end the threat to Felicia and her kin, there was a feeling that built from inside the psychologist, bringing all of his senses to their peak and his anticipation to its boiling point. He was lucky he could manage to stand still at all. And the sense of presence that he had been feeling off and on since he had held the diary grew along with the inner excitement. He only wished he knew why.

Just before Ray was about to begin reciting the spell, a beat-up old car came cruising into the driveway, stopping a few feet before the marked off area. The driver jumped out and looked around quizzically, pausing as he saw Peter and Egon. "Peter, my boy!" he called as he started to step closer. "What's going on? Why are you here?"

"Pop, what in the hell are _you_ doing here? We're kind of in the middle of something, something dangerous. You don't want to be near here." Peter turned an incredulous, frustrated look toward Charlie Venkman as the man finished closing the distance between them.

"I told you I was heading for the Midwest; I just followed that urge here, wherever that is. Are you okay?"

Egon placed a half comforting, half restraining hand on the psychologist's shoulder. "Mr. Venkman, Peter's right. We're about to attempt a very dangerous ritual, and it would be in your best interest to not be near here when it's completed."

Winston looked at Ray carefully, the redheaded man biting his lower lip catching the black man's attention. He knew the younger man could no longer speak anything but the words of the spell now that everything was prepared for the casting - and he had chosen to follow suit so he wouldn't break Ray's concentration - but it was obvious there was something he wanted to say. The oldest of the Ghostbusters could only wonder what it was.

"If Peter's in danger, I'm staying. I won't let him be hurt here. I couldn't leave now if I wanted to. Why are you boys casting this thing anyway? What could be so big and nasty out here that you need to do something so dangerous?" The old con man's words were brave and determined while his eyes were filled with confusion. His face, however, showed a great fatigue, the obvious result of a number of sleepless nights.

"We're trying to break a curse that's been in my family for over two hundred years," Felicia said quietly but firmly, making Charlie jump as she stepped out from behind the taller men that had hidden her presence. "A demon bound itself to an ancestor of mine and tries to manipulate the oldest of the line into giving up his or her soul before they die. It's appeared to me, and I don't want it to go on any longer. I don't want it to come after my family."

"Are you boys sure you can believe her?" Charlie asked, his brown eyes narrowed with quick suspicion, locking on the older woman. "Sounds kind of far-fetched to me."

Peter looked between his father and his employer, noticing the mostly one-sided animosity radiating from the man next to him. "We took readings, Pop. She's legit. Do you really think we'd take these kinds of chances without being sure? Besides, you're the guy who dragged us up to Alaska to look at a block of black ice based on some legends you managed to overhear, not to mention those nightmares you've been having lately. Why are you so skeptical all of a sudden?"

"Just a feeling, son," Charlie answered as he adjusted his loud, plaid, polyester suit jacket. "I don't want you to get hurt. And it's not like she ever told the people she supposedly considers family about this. Wonder why that was?" The sarcasm in his voice ran thick, causing Felicia to flinch slightly.

She quickly recovered. "It's not like you stuck around long enough to find out." Her eyes flashed and her jaw clenched.

"Whoa, whoa, hang on a minute!" Peter called out, raising his hands and waving them to get the two combatants' attention. "What in the hell is going on here? How did you know that, Pop? And what do you mean he didn't stick around to find out, Felicia?" His emerald green eyes flashed as well, and if looks could kill, the only thing that would have saved either Charlie or Felicia was the confusion that was laced through the tense, brown-haired man's expression.

"We don't have time for this, any of you," Egon said with finality. "The spell on the blood will only last so long, and we must be finished before dark. Mister Venkman, you can stay, but you must not interfere. We'll answer everyone's questions when this is all over." His stern pale blue eyes locked on all three of the people standing with him, letting them know he was deadly serious.

Peter let out an explosive breath. "I hate to say it, but you're right, Spengs. Let's do this. If we could have quiet on the set, you're a go, Ray." He waved an arm dramatically in the occultist's direction.

Winston rolled his eyes at the flamboyant gesture as he shifted the thick book one last time. A nervous smile flitted across Ray's features, then he began to say the words that would break the blood bond between Trevaire and the Decker line.

He was halfway through the long, wordy ceremony, periodically tracing symbols on the ground with the ensorcelled blood in a circular pattern, when the sky above them darkened menacingly. "Stop! You must stop! I will not let you finish!" The words echoed from the surrounding buildings.

"No! No, not now! It can't be!" Felicia cried in frustrated denial.

The form all but Charlie had seen the night before stepped out of the shadows behind the four people witnessing the rite Ray was continuing as well as he could. The glowing violet eyes seemed to narrow as they took in everyone before them. "The blood is so near, so near. Felicia, I warned you, I warned you I would take your blood if you would not surrender your soul. Now they are mine!" A sudden wind picked up in the farmyard, nearly taking them all from their feet, and Trevaire stepped closer, its evil menace radiating from it in waves.

"No!" Felicia screamed above the wind. "You will not take them! I won't let you! This ends here and now, and you will receive nothing more from this family!"

"When I have so much within my grasp? I think not." Although the voice wasn't raised, everyone heard it clearly. "Now which to choose? Older, younger... I'm not sure where to begin." If they would have been able to see the demon's face, they were sure they would have seen a wicked grin spread across its dark expression.

"Be careful, everybody," Peter warned, never taking his eyes from the shadowy creature. "I think he's getting ready to pounce."

Charlie chuckled nervously. "I guess he does kind of remind me of a panther."

"I don't think you'll like my purr," Trevaire snarled, boring its gaze into Peter's as it sprung at his father.

"Damn it, no!" the psychologist cried, instinctually unshipping his thrower as Egon did the same and the elder Venkman barely dodged out of the way. The two Ghostbusters fired together, causing the demon to shy away as it rolled to its feet.

"You can't stop me with your pathetic weapons," the thing said derisively, its eyes once again flickering from one member of the quartet to another. "Weapons have never been able to stop me."

"Well, you haven't exactly run into a Ghostbuster before, have you?" Peter shot back.

Egon threw him a sharp look. "Peter, don't antagonize the entity."

"He started it."

Trevaire drew itself to its full height, the wind never abating in its fury as it swirled around the yard. The glowing violet eyes settled on the shaking older woman, the tremors coming from both fear and anger. "As amusing as I find this, I believe we agreed on something when we first met. This will end, Felicia. And if you won't give me your soul, I will have them both. You shall watch as the life drains from each of them, knowing that with one simple surrender, you could have saved them both. And it begins... now!" The wind picked up a notch and stirred up even more dust and pebbles.

"Scatter, people!" Peter called out, pushing his father away from him as he took a few steps in another direction. "Don't let it touch you, but whatever you do, keep it away from Ray!"

The four of them followed the command, leaving the demon standing there frustrated. It raised its head to the sky and howled, a sound nearly enough to crack all the glass in a two-mile radius. "You will not escape me! None of your line has in too many years to count. This will be no different. And you will suffer mightily for your actions here today, I promise you that!"

"Oh, promises, promises. Like I'd trust the word of a demon," Peter scoffed as he continued to move in as random a pattern as he could manage, the visibility cut down drastically by the dust and dirt kicked up by the wind.

"Peter, why can't we let this thing touch us?" Charlie called out, following his son's lead, what little hair he had left whipping around in the unnatural gale. "What will it do?"

"From what we've read, it can drain the energy of both a person's body and soul," Egon replied through the demon's laughter, also darting around the yard. "And that's apart from the sustenance it can obtain from a person's blood."

Ray's voice was beginning to rise dramatically, his cue that he was nearly finished with the blood ritual. An ear-shattering cry from Trevaire rose as well, the demon obviously starting to feel the effect of the enchantment. Suddenly, with a wicked snarl, wings tore out of the creature's back and it began to climb into the sky, adding to the current already in effect. "You will stop, humans, or there will be great suffering!" the evil voice thundered, the echo this time not completely natural.

"Wow, a guy who can do his own special effects," Peter quipped, shielding his eyes from the debris as he tried to watch where the thing was headed. "He'd save George Lucas millions."

Winston struggled to keep Ray's page as well as the book intact through the windstorm surrounding them all. "Tell me you're almost finished, Ray," he muttered, the words barely reaching the other man's ears. Ray smiled and nodded, his voice rising even more as he reached the last section and the final two symbols.

Just as the occultist was drawing the next to last character on the ground, the demon reached the pinnacle of its climb and suddenly began a neck-breaking swooping dive - straight for Charlie, who had tripped and fallen some feet away from the others. "No!" Peter cried, drowning out his father's whoosh of air as it was forced out of his lungs. The psychologist shot off toward the downed man, hoping beyond hope he could reach the older man in time.

Felicia gasped from behind Charlie's car where she had taken refuge to catch her breath. "Oh, God, no!" she exclaimed, taking off herself toward her son. "No, leave him alone!"

"I may not be able to kill you, Felicia, but I can have him!" Trevaire snarled as it came within a hairsbreadth of its target. Its claw-tipped hands ground into flesh, and the demon swooped up with only a fraction of an inch to spare before it would have crashed into the ground.

Egon, who had been rushing after Peter as fast as he could, stopped in his tracks and watched with stricken eyes as the creature traveled vertically with its victim. "Peter, no!" he exclaimed, instinctively grabbing for his thrower, but knowing he couldn't use it without taking the chance of hitting his best friend.

Felicia blinked at the shout from the physicist, realizing at that moment that she was still firmly on the ground. She had felt something slam into her, but had assumed it was the demon. The wind that continued to whip at her hair was the same wind Trevaire had been using to try to interrupt the spell casting. Her dark brown eyes opened, and she gazed up at the sky, horror-stricken. Somehow, Peter had gotten between her and Charlie, and had been taken in both of their places. "Damn it, Peter," she snapped through a sob. "It would have been safer for him to take me!"

"Maybe so," Egon said breathlessly as he completed his interrupted journey to check on Felicia, "but that wouldn't matter to Peter. It never would. Are you all right?"

She scrambled to her feet and dusted herself off as the wind began to slowly settle down. "I'm fine, unfortunately. But Peter isn't. We have to go after him!"

"You're right, we do," Winston agreed, hurrying over to the pair, Ray directly on his heels. "Now that the spell's finished it should be easier to take this Trevaire thing down."

"Um, Winston?" Ray offered a bit hesitantly, raising his hand like he was in elementary school. "I'm not quite done with the spell. The bond is only weakened - the blood element is gone."

"What?" Charlie demanded, storming over as well. "Then what are you doing just standing here? Start spouting more of that whatchamacallit language you were spitting out just now and save my son!"

"Mister Venkman, I can assure you Ray has a reason for this pause in his spell casting." Egon turned an expectant look toward the worried redhead. "Raymond?"

"Of course I do, Egon," the occultist said quickly. "I don't have to stay here to finish the spell - in fact I can cast it as we go after Peter."

Felicia nodded decisively. "Then I'll get my four-by-four. We can follow them that way." She ran off toward the barn where the vehicles were kept.

"Don't you need this book?" Winston asked, gesturing toward the tome he still held.

Ray shook his head. "No, actually. The rest of the bond can be broken by a relatively common counterspell that I've found in at least three of my books. It'll be easy."

The black man looked at the youngest member of the party incredulously. "Three, Ray? And that's _common_?"

"Sure," Ray agreed. "Most of the time spells are unique. Now I just have to remember the words..."

Charlie still stared after where Felicia had gone, a dark scowl on his face. "Puts on a good show, doesn't she?"

"Look, Mister Venkman, whether you believe it or not, Felicia cares about Peter and doesn't want him to get hurt," Ray said sharply as Egon and Winston looked at their friend's father in confusion as to the source of his attitude. "She's doing what she can right now to help him, and you'd be a lot more help yourself if you would stop saying such nasty things!" The two taller men on either side of him shot Ray an impressed look. The most exuberant of the Ghostbusters didn't often lose his temper, but when he did it was a memorable sight.

The man in the mussed-up, dirty loud clothing took a deep breath and released it. "You're right, Ray. I'll keep it in check until this is all over. But only because Peter needs me. _She_ most certainly doesn't deserve it."

The redhead sighed, his temper leaving him. "Whatever you say, Mister Venkman."

Just then, Felicia pulled up in a much more beat up truck than she had used to pick up the four younger men from the airport. "Get in!" she cried, leaning over to throw open the passenger side door. "This is what we use to check on the outer edges of the property," the woman explained as she tore off in the wake of the demon and Peter after Egon had just barely managed to shut the door behind himself. "It's used to the rough treatment."

The blond physicist pulled out his PKE meter and made the necessary adjustments to read for Peter's biorhythms. "I don't believe we're in range yet," he announced when there was no flicker from the device.

"We will be soon. We have to be," Ray said forcefully from between the other two men in the back seat with him.

"Ray, start doing that other spell. We need it done yesterday," Winston said urgently, his gaze quickly darting to the man squeezed next to him from its intense search of the surrounding countryside.

"Is there anything you need from us?" Egon asked.

"No, I'm fine. I'll just need you to keep it down so I don't forget anything or get it out of order. We don't have time for me to start everything all over again."

"You got that right," Winston muttered under his breath, taking one last glance across the now-murmuring man to Peter's father on the other side of the back seat. Charlie's face had lost all its color, and the eyes that were just a shade lighter than Felicia's were trained on the world flying by the window, hoping beyond hope that he'd see his son out there, alive and unhurt. The dark-skinned man couldn't help but feel sympathy for the man. He may have caused a lot of problems for Peter, but he loved his son wholeheartedly.

A half hour later they found themselves deep within hill country, and gaining on the burdened demon. As they got closer they noticed that Peter had not proved to be a docile hostage. He was still squirming and thrashing, even though the ground beneath them didn't look to be the safest to land on. Egon was sure Peter hadn't even considered that part of the equation. "Is there any way you could increase the acceleration of the vehicle?" he quietly asked Felicia, in deference to the still-chanting Ray in the back.

"Only a little," she returned in a voice just as soft. "With this rocky terrain, I have to be careful, or _we're_ the ones who'll need rescuing. There are unseen drop-offs all over the place here. You'd be surprised how high up we actually are."

Just then the two shapes above them stopped their forward motion and hovered in the air for a few moments. There was a burst of bright light, and the lower of the two fell to the ground, an inarticulate yell reaching the truck's occupants. "Peter!" Charlie and Felicia cried in unison. Ray shut them out by scrunching his eyes more tightly shut and muttering a little louder. No one saw the tear that slipped down his cheek.

"I can't see him on the ground, Egon," Winston said tersely, his muscles tensing as he continued to search with his eyes. Egon was silent, unable to retreat into denial even for reassurance sake.

"Damn it!" Felicia's oath was quickly followed by the sudden stop of the truck. The reason was easily discernible - a large boulder rested directly in their path, with no room to get around in the truck on either side.

The five of them never hesitated. They were out of the vehicle, Ray still saying the words of his spell, and rushing toward the spot they could only guess Peter was lying hurt and unable to move in a matter of moments. They were quickly spotted, however, and summarily dive-bombed by the still-hovering demon, who realized their intent. The group was forced to scatter once they got past the huge rock, the creature's claws nearly raking both Egon's and Charlie's arms.

Felicia, who had managed to dive ahead of everyone else, continued on her way to the edge of one of the sudden drop-offs she had mentioned earlier, her heart in her throat. Peter couldn't have fallen all that way, could he? Not before she had a chance to get to know him, to let him know her...

A gasp and pain-filled grunt somehow made it past the yells and shouts and frantic scrambling going on behind the woman and she darted forward the last few feet to the ledge. The silver-haired lady held her breath as she gazed down, hoping her imagination wasn't playing with her desires.

It wasn't. There, not three feet below her, hung Peter Venkman, a little battered and bruised, but none the worse for wear for all that. He held onto a small outcropping with every ounce of his strength, his feet dangling over a ten foot drop onto hard stone. Instinctually she reached out for him, her hands latching firmly around his left wrist. "I've got you, Peter. I won't let you go."

The brown-haired man's resultant surprise nearly made him lose his hold altogether. "Felicia!" he cried breathlessly. "You can't pull me up, even without my pack that happens to be currently decorating a rock somewhere close to here. You're going to have to go get one of the others." His green eyes widened as a thought occurred to him. "The others _are_ with you, right? The demon didn't get them?"

"They're here, Peter, but they're a bit... busy at the moment. I'm afraid I'm all you've got right now." She grinned ruefully as she strained to pull him up.

Peter tried to put as much weight as he could on the little ledge his right hand still gripped with all its strength. "I don't want to pull you down with me, Felicia. I can't do that." Panic started to make itself known in his voice.

"Calm down, Peter. I can do this. I have to."

Her simple statement was spoken with such calm assurance that the dangling man found himself nodding and trying to figure out just how to help her. "I haven't been able to find any toeholds, but I'll keep trying."

Before Felicia could respond, Charlie's angry voice precluded the elder Venkman's slide to the edge of the crevice. "What in the hell are you doing to my boy?" Peter had never heard his father sound so possessive.

"What does it look like I'm doing?" the woman snapped back. "I'm trying to pull him up!"

"Uh, yeah, Dad, and she could do a lot better job if you'd stop distracting her," Peter added nervously, feeling the lady's grip slip slightly with her shift in attention.

Charlie ignored him. "Damn it, I won't let you cause me to lose my son!"

"Like I'm about to even think about losing my grandson! Now grab his other wrist and we can argue about this when he's safely back up here!" The man scowled and did as commanded.

It was lucky he did. Peter's eyes grew wide with the older woman's exclamation, and his grip loosened in his shock. Felicia was his grandmother? That would mean that she was Charlie's... And he never... And _she_ never... And the curse...

The implications of that last thought smacked the imperiled man upside the head just as the beating of wings caught the threesome's attention, as well as the yells of warning from Winston and Egon. "It's just too bad that neither of you will be successful," the demon's voice purred evilly just before landing on all fours on the mother and son's backs. The sudden impact caused them both to lose their grip on Peter, and he went tumbling down into the ravine, his yells echoing up as he went. Just as suddenly all the noise stopped, except for the tiny trickles of little pebbles that had been dislodged in the fall.

Ray's voice grew louder, filling the shock-induced silence that had overtaken the party of rescuers. He appeared to be close to finishing his spell, and he was doing it with a vengeance. The last of the foreign words resounded off the surrounding rocks, and it all ended in a shout of the demon's name. Ray thrust his arms into the air as he cried it, Peter's proton pack hanging from his right hand, the redhead having found it during his scramble to evade Trevaire while keeping its attention.

There was a visible ripple in the air that washed over everyone and sent the demon into the sky once again over the ravine where Peter had fallen. Trevaire twisted in agony, its moans of pain growing louder as the effects went deeper and deeper. Then everything went stock still, and the shadowy creature plummeted toward the earth with a shriek that cracked glass. The fivesome gasped and rushed to the edge, dreading what they were bound to see, but needing to see it all the same.

When the five pairs of eyes peered over the drop they widened in unison. On the ravine floor below them they saw the twisted form of the demon sprawled out haphazardly amongst the rocks, twitching slightly but still obviously down for the count. But there was no sign of Peter, not even beneath the creature. "Where... where did he go?" Winston asked hesitantly, voicing the question they all wanted to ask.

Egon grabbed for his meter, frowning in frustration at the cracked lenses in his red frames. He turned the appropriate dials... and got nothing in response. The glass display was as cracked as the man's glasses, and it was all the physicist could do not to throw the device to the ground to watch it shatter. "The demon's last cry has rendered the meter useless. I can fix it, but Peter needs us now."

"Hey, is that a branching ravine?" Ray asked, pointing excitedly at a hint of a curve in the crevice wall.

"I think it is, Ray. I really think it is," Felicia agreed.

"Do you think he tumbled that way instead of straight down?" Charlie asked nervously.

"I think that's the only explanation for his not being under or beside Trevaire," Egon answered, looking for himself.

"So that means we track the curve," Winston said decisively. "We're bound to find Pete that way."

"Let's stick together," Ray said as they all rose to their feet. "We might need everybody to get him back up here safely when we find him." The rest all nodded, and they took off along the edge to follow their lead.

* * *

Peter Venkman opened his eyes to a world of pain about ten minutes after his fall. He didn't recognize the ravine - not that he was surprised - and he didn't hear anyone on the hill above him. He did feel an excessive number of bruises all over his body, however, more than could be accounted for by the drop he had seen briefly below him as he dangled above it. So what else had happened?

He tried moving each of his limbs to make sure they were intact and found that while most things moved like they were supposed to, his right ankle twinged far too much. "Wonderful," he muttered under his breath. "A sprained ankle is just what I needed." He sighed and turned his head to see exactly where he was.

That was a mistake. The rocks surrounding him began to spin in a wicked dance that made him seriously consider giving up his lunch, and the pounding in his head that he had merely ranked with the rest of his bruises flared up to three times its previous strength. "A concussion, too," he said through gritted teeth, squeezing his eyes shut in a desperate attempt to stop the world before he flew off. "Isn't that just peachy? Where the hell did I land, anyway?"

Wherever it was, the fall had left him in a semi-reclined position, cradled against an incline of gravel and tufts of prairie grass. When it was safe, Peter opened his eyes again, careful not to move his head until the thunder calmed down to a dull roar. He could just make out a curve in the ravine wall, and somewhere in his foggy consciousness he put it together that he must have bounced down a branching crevice, one whose floor sloped even further down than the one he expected to land in. If only that damn demon hadn't pounced on his dad and Felicia...

The demon! The panic that thought produced had him sitting up in a second, and throwing up to one side in the one after that. Who would have guessed? he thought ruefully as he recovered from the last of his dry heaves and shakily lay himself back down. Demons induce vomiting. Better than ipecac.

His emerald greens blinked as he considered his position. He was pretty much down for the count, at least for now, and the demon was left with his buddies, his father, and... his... grandmother. Wow. Felicia was his grandmother, if what she snapped back at his dad was true. But if so, why didn't she say anything earlier? Why did she just hire them like she would any professional? Could it be she didn't know before they got there? Did something else happen that he didn't know about? She did say that she hadn't talked to her son, who appeared to be Charlie, since he was eighteen. That was a few years before his dad had even met his mother. She wouldn't even have known he was married, much less about Peter.

That left Charlie. _He_ obviously knew about Felicia, but had never said anything about her. Peter had managed to glean over the years that his father's father had been dead for a long time, but was forced to assume that his mother was as well. Charlie's relatives in Iowa were Venkmans, and Peter supposed they must not have approved of Felicia remarrying, especially against Charlie's wishes. They had never mentioned her either, except a few times in the past tense.

And, of course, this all meant that Peter was subject to the curse Trevaire had put on the Decker line. Didn't it just figure? With some time to actually think things over, he suddenly realized what a foolish move he had made by substituting himself for Felicia in Charlie's rescue. Not that he would have done it any differently, but Felicia wouldn't have been in any real danger if the demon had wanted her to fulfill her end of Hans Decker's bargain. And he would have preferred knowing exactly what he was getting into.

Peter sighed. It was a bit late for that, now wasn't it? At least the guys would probably be able to deal with the demon, as long as Ray finished that spell.

"I knew it. I knew you were here," an evil, whispering voice said from the shadows to Peter's left. "That human may have broken the blood bond, but I can still recognize the smell of Decker blood."

The supine Ghostbuster turned his head carefully and slowly raised himself to his elbows just in time to see Trevaire solidify out of the shadows along the far wall and step toward him menacingly. "Color me impressed," Peter said sarcastically, letting his features fall into a familiar smirk. "I'm just surprised you can smell anything beyond yourself. Haven't you ever heard of bathing?"

"Keep talking, human. You just insure that your death will be slow and painful, as long as I can make it linger. And do not doubt I have had much practice at such things."

Peter could feel the sneer amidst all the shadows of the demon's face. Not that he was intending to let _that_ slow him down in the least. The guys had to be tracking this thing, and he had to buy them the time they needed to find him. "Then by this time you just might be ready for Carnegie Hall. But don't hold your breath - I've heard the people in charge there are looking for real talent, not wanna-bes that get themselves caught in a bargain they can't get out of. Or would this be closer to the truth? 'Pride goeth before a fall.'"

Peter pressed on as the demon's rage grew, the glowing violet eyes getting brighter and brighter. "Why couldn't you just walk away, Trevaire? Why couldn't you just say, 'This is more trouble than it's worth. I think I'll go home for a while then try again with someone more gullible'? Why, Trevaire? You know what _I_ think? _I_ think it's because you jumped the gun. You made the blood bond before you knew how strongly Hans Decker would resist you. And when he wouldn't just give in at the loss of his family, or buy your argument that you hadn't violated your agreement, you cursed him, thinking that would be the last straw.

"But it wasn't." Peter's mind was working at a mile a minute, the answers suddenly clear as a bell to his mind's eye. He kept spewing them out, not just to give the guys their time, but to rub salt in the wound that had obviously been festering inside the demon for the last two centuries. No one threatened his family and got away with it, whether he realized these people were his family before now or not. "No, that wasn't all Hans Decker could take. It only strengthened his resolve. And when he found his miracle and loved again, he did something you never expected him to do - he told his family what he had done so many years before. He shared the truth so it would protect his son, and it worked. That must have cheesed your cracker. Here you are, hoping you could play off the next generation's ignorance and get the soul you needed to break free from your too-quick-on-the-draw bondage, and Hans goes against human nature and airs his dirty laundry to the people he cares most about.

"Don't you get it?" the lounging man asked insistently as the demon loomed larger and larger in his vision. "Hans learned his lesson - love is the most valuable thing a man could ever get in a lifetime. But that's a foreign concept to you, isn't it? The ability to sacrifice everything to save a loved one, to hold on no matter what terrors you may have to face so someone else you care about doesn't have to... Those are the things that will bring you down, you just wait and see." A grin brightened Peter's features. "Because _I_ learned that lesson, too, and any second now you're going to see the result of that."

In any good movie, that would have been the cavalry's cue to make their grand entrance, horns blaring and flags flying. In fact, that's sort of what Peter was hoping for. But this was real life, the psychologist noted with an internal sigh, and the guys really needed to work on their timing. He didn't back down from the tight grin and cold stare he was sharing with Trevaire during the pregnant pause that followed his blustery conclusion, however, no matter how much panic was beginning to build behind the darkened green orbs.

The purple eyes flashed. "You and your foolish hopes, human. Or should I say... Peter." The only response was a brief twitch of the brown eyebrows. "Yes, I know all the names of the Decker line. But that's not what we're here to discuss, now is it?" The shadows were now a mere fraction of an inch from its victim's face, and the hands crept forward with dark intent. "We're here to discuss how much I am going to enjoy draining every ounce of life from your body and soul, and how after your corpse lies before me, limp and broken, I will delight in drinking every last drop of blood within it." With that, Trevaire reached out and took hold of Peter's upper arms, gripping tightly.

At the contact, Peter gasped sharply and his eyes flew wide open. On top of the throbbing headache and bruises he already suffered from, whatever the demon was doing to him was increasing the pain a thousandfold. He found he had to clench his jaw shut to keep from screaming, and tears unwillingly spilled down his colorless cheeks. It wasn't long before the strength left his body, having been weakened by his fall and tumble down the ravine. He couldn't cry out now even if he had wanted to. His head grew dizzy, the world spinning around him like he was stuck on the Tilt-a-Whirl at the carnival he had traveled with those few summers long ago. Only the pain kept him awake and his eyes open to any degree.

And then it stopped suddenly. The lids drooped over the dulled emerald greens, and Peter knew Trevaire had fulfilled the first part of his promise. Inwardly he flinched in trepidation at what he knew was coming next - the draining of his soul. _Guys, now would be a really great time to improve that timing problem of yours!_ he thought desperately, almost too weary to do that.

After what felt like an hour later, but in reality was closer to thirty seconds, a more intense pain than Peter had ever felt before coursed through the center of his being. He could feel his very essence trickling away, and he fought tooth and nail to keep it from happening. "No," he breathed, ever the fighter. "No."

The violet of its eyes brightened. "Yes, Peter, yes. You are mine now, and nothing anyone can do will change that. You speak of love, of sacrifices selfless enough to be written in song and story, yet where is that for you now? Where are these people you love so that you would do this for them? Could it be they do not return this emotion you treasure so? That must be true, for, as I see it, you are completely and utterly alone." Evil laughter echoed off the stone walls surrounding them, and Peter barely cringed at the sound, his eyes finally falling shut in his misery.

"No, Peter!" an angel's voice cried from above. "No! We're here! We made it! You're not alone! You have to remember, you're never alone!"

The green eyes popped open again, a near-impossible surge of energy filling him at the sound of Ray's voice. They came, they finally found him! He'd held on long enough. He'd get on their case about that timing issue later.

"Don't worry, Peter," Egon's cool bass said pragmatically, although the brown-haired psychologist could hear the tension-tempered relief behind the calm tone. "We'll find a way down to you as soon as we can."

"I think I've got something! Hang on, Pete! We're coming!" Winston shouted, obviously beginning to lead the others along a downward sloping path.

"Hold on, Peter. You have to hold on, son," Charlie called out shakily as his voice suggested he continued to move. Peter was a bit startled. He'd never heard his father sound quite that scared before.

"Damn right you do, Peter," Felicia finished, last in line if the way the echoes came to him were any indication. "I owe you a huge apology, and I intend to have you around to hear it." If Peter would have had the strength to do more than blink, he would have chuckled at that.

But there were more pressing issues to be dealt with. Trevaire pressed its face against the man's. "You will not live to see them reach the bottom, Peter. This I swear," it hissed, the suction on Peter's soul starting anew, with the agony that accompanied it. A light moan escaped the dry, parched lips, going unnoticed amidst the more pressing trials his being was experiencing.

Still Peter struggled against the pull the demon was exerting on his very existence. And seemingly as a reward for good behavior, a flash of insight came to him. He wasn't alone. He was never alone. And with that thought came the distinct impression of multitudes of people standing behind him, waiting...

"The entire line of Hans Decker stands behind you." Gerritt's quote from the diary came across Peter's pain-filled mind with crystal clarity, letting him step back from the agony, if only a fraction, though the struggle continued. But that minute distancing was enough. Peter knew what he had to do, and he was determined to do it, to save his friends and family from all the ways Trevaire would hurt them if the thing succeeded in winning here. The curse and the binding were no longer in effect, he could feel it, and that meant that all bets were off.

The grin that formed on the man's face was wicked. "I need you," he whispered, not having the strength to say it any louder. But he knew he didn't need to. "To defeat this thing I need you. Why don't we finally get around to trashing this waste of space like I think we've all wanted to for a very long time? I'm asking as a descendant of Hans Decker, and together we can make this guy toast."

"No, no, no, no, no," Trevaire murmured, drawing back ever so slightly in shock as it recognized the power in the air as the energy coalesced as a bright aura around what should have been its victim, its vengeance. "No! Stay back! No!" The light seemed to burn its hands, and it stumbled away, finally having received a dose of the pain it had inflicted on others over the centuries.

Considering what he had already gone through that day, Peter shouldn't have been able to move much less stand and fight. But as the light that surrounded him filled him as well, he found himself sitting up, rising to his feet, his weight shifted to his left in deference to his ankle. He shouldn't need to do more than stand, however, not if everything worked. "You know, Trevaire, you really picked the wrong family to mess with," the psychologist said with a smirk. He extended his arms out in front of himself, palms out, and a beam of energy shot out and slammed the demon against the far wall of the ravine, a silent exultation ringing through his mind.

Trevaire recovered its balance and shook off the lingering effects. "If that's all you can do, I most certainly did not pick the wrong family." A wave of darkness washed over Peter from the demon's own outstretched hands, breaking around the nimbus of light that surrounded him.

"Well, well, well. Looks like the mighty Trevaire is shooting blanks today," Peter taunted, not letting the feeling of pain and weakness that had washed over him with that wave of dark energy show to his opponent, knowing it would have been worse without the briefly flickering nimbus that surrounded him. He hastily braced himself for the immediate backlash attack that was thrown his way, meeting it with a beam of his own that held it at bay. He didn't even want to think what that would feel like if it hit him.

It didn't take long for Peter to see that he wouldn't be able to keep the standoff going, not and be able to deliver the killing blow, whispers murmuring all around and through him confirming the theory. His eyes shut briefly in resignation, trying to brace himself without giving it away to his enemy, and suddenly shut down his beam. The psychologist prepared himself, shifting slightly so as not to take a direct hit, hoping that would keep the damage down to a minimum, but was still overwhelmed when the tidal wave of dark energy washed over him. For all his preparation, the brown-haired man still slammed into the stone wall behind him, the shock jarring all his aches and pains that the light had managed to keep away until then. In particular, his head and ankle flared back to life, and Peter knew he couldn't get back to his feet.

"Peter!" Ray Stantz's voice was close, and filled with panicked worry. Hurried footsteps rushed toward the supine man.

"No, Ray," Peter tried to call out from his enforced seat against the wall as he turned his head to face the incoming Ghostbuster. "Stay back. Trevaire's fighting dirty." He watched as his redheaded friend dodged a rapid series of short dark blasts, finally hiding behind a large boulder close to his ultimate destination.

"Peter," Ray called out from behind the rock. "Are you okay?"

"Do I look okay?" The psychologist sighed, knowing he wasn't done yet. "No, Tex, I'm not okay, but I have to finish this. Just stay clear so you don't get hurt." He paused as a thought occurred to him. "Where are the others?"

The occultist blushed slightly after flinching from a blast that hit his hiding place squarely. "I ran ahead of them when I heard you two exchanging energy blasts. They didn't want to distract you."

"Good call. But what do you think you're going to be able to do here, Ray? _I_ have to be the one to take this turkey down."

The younger man grinned. "Maybe so, Peter, but that doesn't mean I can't help you do it. Take my pack. It's been configured to be compatible with the energy you've picked up. Egon finally got the meter working again, so I based the adjustments off his readings." The light brown eyes sparkled with excitement. "Are you really surrounded by all the spirits of your Decker ancestors, Peter? Is that where you got this aura of energy?"

Peter couldn't help but laugh slightly, grimacing as Trevaire found a new angle to fire at Ray from. The stocky man shifted his position to compensate without losing sight of Peter. "What do you think, Ray? You read that message from Gerritt, too. But I can't take your pack. That would leave you without a weapon, and in case you hadn't noticed, there's a demon out there." He frowned at the thought of Trevaire doing anything to any of his friends.

A calm, confident smile transformed Ray's features. "But, Peter, if you beat him, there won't be a demon to deal with. I won't need a weapon. Besides, I left your pack by the others. I'll get back to them and fix it, and then I won't be defenseless. And I'll have Winston and Egon to protect me while I do it. But I don't think they'll need to, because I know you'll do the job just fine without us."

A returning smile was the involuntary response. "Tex, I don't do anything without you guys, even when you're not there. And you're right. I'm bringing this guy _down_. Slide me the pack. I think I know what to do."

Motion out of the corner of Peter's eye caught his attention as Ray managed to wiggle out of his pack amidst shifts and maneuvering to avoid the increasingly frustrated blasts from Trevaire. Egon stood at the edge of the wall Peter was now leaning against, obviously being held back by the black man behind him. The dizziness from his head injury kept him from seeing the physicist's expression clearly, but he didn't have to. He knew his best friend was worried beyond compare for both his friends that were in the line of fire, just as Peter would have been if the situation was reversed. He gave the two men who watched him warily a small nod, and the tenseness in their postures lightened slightly.

The sound of a proton pack sliding along gravel brought Peter's attention back to the here and now, and he looked down to find Ray's pack within arm's reach, the man who had delivered it giving him a grin and a thumbs up. Peter grinned in return and reached for the accelerator, gasping with the effort it took to bring it close enough to even consider putting it to use. A piercing howl filled the air, the repeating echoes from the surrounding ravine amplifying the sound to an almost painful degree. It _was_ painful for Peter, who managed to ignore it and pull the thrower and power the pack up. "Now we'll see who's been backing the wrong horse," he muttered through gritted teeth, waiting for Trevaire to come back into range from the height it had ascended to during its exclamation of ultimate frustration.

Ray saw Peter prepare himself and took the murmured comment as his cue to get back to the others. He'd done what he could; he'd only be a distraction now. And a target. The occultist gave his friend one more grin of encouragement and took off for the base of the tiny path he and the others had managed to find that had led them to the ravine floor. He saw Egon and Winston watching him, hurrying him with their eyes as he found himself dodging even more projectiles from the infuriated demon.

He had almost made it when one last blast came a little too close for comfort. It was the largest explosion yet, and the concussive blast sent him flying into the two waiting Ghostbusters. The three of them sprawled out on the ground, Ray unmoving.

"Ray, no!" Peter cried, horror-stricken. Then his voice turned cold and nasty. "Okay, eat proton, bunky, delivered in the unique Venkman style - straight up your..."

"Peter!" Egon exclaimed reproachfully, leaving Ray to Winston and Felicia's ministrations.

The psychologist grinned as he fired, hitting Trevaire square in the center of his chest. "Just seeing if you were paying attention, Spengs," he called back over the resulting roar of pain. "How's Ray?"

"He's gonna be fine, Pete," Winston answered. "I think he just got shaken up by the blast. He should be coming around any time now."

"Wonderful," Peter replied, letting his grin turn as cold and nasty as his voice had been before. "So let's put this puppy to bed."

Egon watched, fascinated, as Peter showed his usual skill in capturing troublesome entities, every blast of the pack eliciting a bellow of ever-increasing agony. The stream was brighter than it normally was, suggesting Peter had managed to combine both the beam and the energy he had been using before, but the blond man couldn't see any evidence of how. The thrower wasn't glowing as he'd expected it to, and even Peter was no longer surrounded by the white aura he had been sporting prior to now. And then everything clicked, and Egon gasped.

"What? What is it?" Charlie asked, having been able to stay back no longer while the other two continued to work on Ray. "Is something wrong with Peter?"

Egon mutely shook his head. "No, it's not that," he said finally. "Peter needed the boost of power from a proton pack, which is why Raymond modified his and rushed it out to him. But both energy sources still needed to be combined to be effective. I expected him to join them at the tip of the thrower, where the stream leaves the proton pack. It seems the most obvious place to do so. But he hasn't. Right now he's at least doubled the output of the pack by integrating the external energy source directly with the nuclear accelerator powering it. And it's working." The pale blue eyes were wide behind the red-rimmed glasses, and his mouth was beginning to twitch in a proud smile.

The older man looked confused. "What are you talking about? What do you mean? What did Peter do?"

"He's channeling the PK energy the Decker ghosts are lending him into the power source of the pack," Ray translated weakly, his eyes finally fluttering open. "Actually, that's the most effective way Peter could have done it." He grinned, his injury draining enough of his energy to keep it from being its usual blinding self. "I knew he could do it."

With Ray up and running - and sitting up thanks to Winston's help - the five witnesses watched as Peter held Trevaire in the air with his stream, his lips forming inaudible words. The enhanced beam seemed to be extremely damaging to the snared demon, smoke starting to rise from its suddenly solid and blackening hide, augmenting the terrible screams that echoed through the canyon with an almost unbearable stench of burning flesh. It appeared it was almost over.

But not yet. Trevaire certainly wasn't going down without a fight. In the space of a heartbeat, the creature fought against the force of the beam that kept it imprisoned, slowly moving inch by painful inch toward the accursed man who wielded the weapon of its destruction. Peter, for his part, merely continued doing what he was doing, his expression like stone and the words continuing to fall from his lips. Finally, finally, Trevaire had nearly reached his target, and Peter the end of whatever he was reciting. As the claws reached out for his face, the brown-haired man's oddly-choral voice rose to an echoing shout. "Demon Trevaire, be gone! I banish you in the name of the line of Hans Decker! Be gone, and never trouble this realm again!" There was a flash of light as the banishment was completed, and the demon seemingly exploded.

The wave of energy from the blast took down the five-person audience as they covered their eyes to protect them from the blinding light. As soon as it had cleared they all scrambled back up to witness the aftereffects of the battle. But there was nothing to see, not yet. Apparently the explosion kicked up a huge dirt cloud, and the fivesome would have to wait to visually check on their friend and family member.

"Peter!" Ray called desperately. "Peter, can you hear me? Are you all right?"

"Come on, answer us, Pete!" Winston coughed as he breathed in a bit too much dust.

Felicia stared out into the settling silt, her brown eyes wide and her fists clenched. "Egon, he was so close to that thing. Will he be all right?"

The blond physicist looked down at the trembling woman beside him, struggling to keep himself under control. "I can't be certain, Felicia. But he had better be if he knows what's good for him." He was rewarded with a tiny smile.

Charlie found he couldn't say a word. He merely stood there blindly watching the air clear and the kicked-up earth coat the ground with a thin layer of soil. Had he lost his son? He couldn't, he just couldn't...

Finally, the dust cleared enough for the anxious people to see the crumpled form of Peter Venkman lying unconscious against the ravine wall, his body slumping over the proton pack to his left. There was a collective gasp, and they all rushed over to him. "The readings say he's alive, right, Egon?" Ray asked as they reached their fallen friend.

"Yes, although there's still an abnormal overlay. It's identical to the aura that surrounded him during his battle with Trevaire, so I theorize that his ancestors haven't left yet."

"I don't care about that," Charlie snapped, throwing himself to his knees beside his son. "I want Peter taken care of. I don't want to lose him. I can't..."

Felicia took a deep breath and turned to the three standing men. "Is there any way we can get him into the truck? I can get us to the nearest hospital pretty quickly once we get out of these hills."

Winston nodded as he swiftly examined the unconscious man. "We saw Pete moving after he slammed into the rock, so I don't think we're looking at a spinal injury. That, and I don't think we can afford to wait to go get help. Ray, help me with him, will you? We should get moving."

The group of them couldn't have moved any faster if they'd tried, succeeding in getting Peter to Felicia's truck in short order. Fortunately, there was a supply of thick horse blankets in the bed of the vehicle able to be used to make a temporary bed for the injured Peter and keep him warm in the process. Winston and Egon insisted on riding with him on their way to the hospital, and they did what they could to keep the journey as steady as possible, while Ray and Charlie watched with worried expressions through the rear window of the cab.


	5. Chapter 5

_I'm so grateful for those of you who have chosen to go on this ride with me! Here's the next chapter - enjoy, and feel free to let me know what you think!_

* * *

Peter was flown to North Platte from the small hospital they had reached first due to his head injuries. The neurosurgeon on staff there had a marvelous reputation, and it made the others feel a bit better to know Peter was in good hands. They sat in the waiting room of the ICU, taking turns pacing as the hours passed by with no information.

Four hours later, a weary doctor in surgical scrubs entered the room and let his dark hazel gaze wander over the rising occupants. "Are you all here about Mister Venkman?" he asked in a tired bass nearly as deep as Egon's.

"Yes, we are," Egon said quickly, stepping forward. "How is he? Will he be all right?"

"I'm Doctor Brett Stephens," he introduced himself. He paused as he took in the concern in all the faces watching him carefully, then asked a bit reluctantly, "Are any of you relation? Who signed his release form?"

"I did," Charlie offered, coming up to stand beside the tall blond. "I'm his father."

"And I'm his grandmother," Felicia said firmly, stepping over to the other side of the now-shocked physicist.

Egon and Winston shared a bewildered look, but before they could make a comment, the doctor continued. "Are you sure you wish to discuss this here? We could talk about this privately if you wish."

Both mother and son shook their heads. "No, these gentlemen deserve to hear about Peter's condition, probably even more than we do," the older woman replied.

"All right then. It took us a while to stop all the internal bleeding, but now that we have things look very positive for Peter's recovery. He'll be in intensive care until we're sure he's stable." He looked around and sighed. "I'm afraid hospital policy states that only relatives can visit a patient in the ICU."

"But isn't there any way we can see Peter?" Ray asked, stricken. He reached out a shaking hand and grabbed a hold of Winston's arm.

"Please, Doctor Stephens, there must be some way to make an exception," Egon added.

"I'm afraid not. The last time I tried that I was written up so fast my head spun. Look," Doctor Stephens said sympathetically, "if things were up to me you'd be there. I can see how much he means to you, and I can only assume you mean as much to him. That's exactly what a patient needs during his recovery. But I have to play by the rules here. I tend to rail a bit against authority as it is, and there have been a few things I've tried to get in place that the administration doesn't quite care for. They're watching me like a hawk."

"But what if we were to give our permission?" Felicia asked. Charlie shot her a slightly hostile look but kept quiet.

That made the doctor pause. "I'd normally say I'd try to work with that. But I think Peter's going to come along nicely, and once he's stable we'll be moving him to a regular room. You'll all be free to visit him there."

"How long do you think that will be, Doctor?" Egon queried.

"I can't say for certain, but I think within the next forty-eight hours," the dark-haired doctor said with a gentle smile. "I'll make sure someone lets me know as soon as he's ready, and let you know as soon as it's done. You have my word."

The blond returned the expression with a shaky smile of his own. "Thank you, doctor. I only hope you don't get into trouble on our account. You've been more than helpful."

"And you saved Peter. We couldn't ask for any more than that," Ray added, worry still quite prominent on his features.

"Hey, I only assisted our resident neurosurgeon. But you're welcome all the same. Now I suggest you all get some supper. Since Peter's just being moved into his room, I'm not going to allow any visitors until tomorrow morning. He wouldn't wake up before then anyway."

"We'll do that, but we'll be back in the morning" Winston insisted firmly. The rest of them nodded.

There was a laugh from the doctor at that. "Why do I get the feeling I shouldn't have expected any less? Go eat, lady and gentlemen. And when you come back tomorrow, I'll see that you're filled in on his condition. Now go!" He shooed off the reluctant crowd, relief that his latest patient had such a strong support system gleaming in his eyes. He'd have to see what he could do to help that along.

* * *

The dark mood that Doctor Stephens had managed to drive away for a while in the waiting room came back with a vengeance as they sat in a diner a block away from the hospital after Egon made time to call Janine to let her know what had happened. Each of the five people withdrew into their own little worlds, each lost in their own worries and fears. Sleep caught up with all of them quickly once they made their way to a nearby motel, where Felicia insisted on paying for all of the rooms, and slumber was a tempestuous companion.

* * *

When the three Ghostbusters woke up the next morning, a quick check revealed that they were the only ones still at the motel. "Where did Felicia and Peter's dad go?" Ray asked as he blinked away the last of what little sleep he had gotten when Winston came back from his search.

"My guess would be to see Peter, unless they're having breakfast," Winston replied, yawning.

Egon straightened his glasses, having already gotten dressed, and looked at his watch. "I would be inclined to agree with your first theory, Winston," he said calmly. "It's eight-thirty now, and with the two of them being relatives I'm sure it wasn't hard to convince the nurse on duty to let them in."

"Speaking of, what is going on with that? Felicia is Pete's grandmother? I don't get it." The black man shook his head in disbelief.

"I am unclear as to that connection as well. What do you think, Ray?"

They both turned to get the redhead's response and were surprised to see him gazing down at the floor guiltily. "I'm sorry, guys," he murmured.

"Do you mean to say you knew about this, Raymond?" The blond was thoroughly shocked.

"Why didn't you tell us? Or more importantly, why didn't you tell Peter?"

Stricken light brown eyes rose from their contemplation of his feet. "I only found out the night before last. While I was on my watch I stumbled across an old newspaper clipping. It was a picture of Peter's mom and dad on their wedding day, the publicity shot for the society section. That's when I realized Felicia was Charlie's mom, and Peter's grandmother. She had come downstairs while I was gawking, and she confirmed everything. We thought it would be better to tell Peter after we'd dealt with Trevaire so his reaction wouldn't distract him." The engineer shrugged sadly. "I guess we never got the chance."

Winston sighed. "I can see why you didn't say anything. But did she know all this time? Is that why she brought us out here?"

"She said it wasn't; she didn't even know our names," Ray explained. "That clipping was the last she had heard anything about Charlie until yesterday. A friend sent it to her, recognizing the name. She said she wasn't going to pry - if she was going to know anything, it would be because Charlie wanted her to know."

"Why do I get this feeling that wasn't going to happen anytime soon?"

"Because I believe the famous Venkman stubborn streak is not entirely rooted in that particular side of the family," Egon said wryly.

"Wow, guys, think about it. Peter just found out he has a grandmother after all this time. He's going to have real family he can depend on." Ray smiled as he thought about the possibilities.

"And I think I might even feel sorry for Charlie for the reaction Pete's going to have when he wakes up. That boy is going to be furious!" Winston raised his eyebrows and shared a look of dread with the other two. They all knew just how Peter would probably take this latest betrayal from his father, and they also knew it wouldn't be a pretty sight.

* * *

Inside Peter's room a little later that morning, it certainly wasn't, but not by any fault of Peter's, not directly at any rate. Felicia and her son sat on either side of the unconscious man glaring at each other over his chest. "How dare you blame this on me?" the woman snapped quietly in an attempt to respect her grandson's rest. "I didn't ask this demon to come after me and my kin."

"No, but you brought Peter out here where he'd be in the most danger. I don't know how I can manage to look at you!" Charlie's volume matched his mother's.

"Well, you're doing it. I'm not forcing you to. I was just trying to protect you, you know. I hadn't had a chance to tell you about the curse, and then you left. I had no idea you had even gotten married much less had a child." She paused, her eyes searching the man's face across from her. "Well, I knew you had gotten married. Lorraine sent me the picture from the newspaper. But since the only caption was Mr. and Mrs. Charles W. Venkman, I didn't even know your wife's name. And I certainly couldn't have known about Peter."

"What, Lorraine didn't send you his birth announcement?" the balding man asked with a sneer.

"No, she didn't," was the quiet reply. "She died in a car accident about three months after I got the letter with the wedding clipping. I'm guessing it took you a little while to produce your son."

Charlie was taken aback slightly at the news. "I always liked Lorraine," he muttered under his breath.

"And she always liked you. That's why she sent me the picture. I certainly didn't ask for it. I figured if you wanted me to be in your life you would come to me yourself. I wouldn't pry before then."

"It's a good thing you didn't," Charlie said, the hostility back in his voice. "I wouldn't have liked that at all."

Felicia sighed. "You may think otherwise, but I'm not stupid. Although Jerry wanted me to find you, to talk to you. He knew how much it hurt me to have you so completely out of my life."

"Don't even bring up that man's name! You must have had him snowed to have him thinking that, though. How could I hurt you when I didn't even matter to you? You married him when you knew I hated the idea!" Anger flared in the man's eyes, almost concealing the flash of hurt that came first.

"Of course you matter to me! Do you think I took the chance of Trevaire's wrath for myself? I was in no danger, none whatsoever. As long as I didn't give that thing my soul I was fine. But _you_ wouldn't be. And before you even think it, let me remind you I didn't know about Peter, so it couldn't have been for him. I'm glad it worked out that way, or at least I will be if he wakes up..." The silver-haired woman's voice trailed off as her gaze fell onto Peter's still face, the monitors flashing slightly out of the corner of her eyes.

Charlie inadvertently mirrored his mother's actions. "He wouldn't have fallen into this coma if you hadn't brought him here," he said quietly, unable to let go of his decades-long grudge.

A thought crossed Felicia's mind at that point. "Oh, no," she gasped as she raised her head, her eyes wide. "We haven't told the others. They don't know what happened overnight."

"Dr. Stephens will tell them, I'm sure of it. He promised." The man in the wrinkled polyester suit jacket sounded desperate to believe that. "I can't leave Peter. They'll understand."

The older lady looked at her son in disbelief. "They love him, too, Charlie. How can you leave them out like that? Fifteen minutes of time is not abandoning Peter, and they deserve to know. Dr. Stephens has been wonderful, but he's still a stranger. It would be better for one of us to tell them if they're here."

"You know," Charlie started as Felicia rose to do just that, "this isn't going to make up for Dad and the way you betrayed him. Nothing you can do will do that."

That statement made the woman freeze in her tracks. She turned around slowly, her eyes flashing with a fierce anger, but before she could say anything there was a polite knock at the door and it opened. "It's just me," a petite young woman dressed in a nurse's uniform said as she slipped inside the room. "It's time for Peter's ten o'clock check."

Felicia managed to give her a smile. "Of course, Nurse Kohlstedt. Are the other Ghostbusters here yet?"

"I told you before, call me Sarah. And yes, they've been in the ICU waiting room for a little over an hour." She moved over to the bed and began her examination.

"Thank you, Sarah." The silver-haired lady watched the strawberry blonde work for a moment then silently left the room, acutely aware of the glare her son was boring into her back as she did.

As she stepped into the waiting room she saw the three distraught men and shuddered at the news she had for them. She only wished she hadn't had to hear it in the first place. She wished even more that she didn't have to share it, especially with these men that so obviously cared deeply for her grandson. "Hello, boys," she said softly.

They all turned sharply at the sound. "Good morning, Felicia," Egon said in greeting while Ray and Winston nodded. "I see you were allowed in to see Peter early this morning."

"The nurse took pity on us and let us know we could visit whenever we wanted while he's in the ICU. That'll change once he's moved. We just had to stay out of the way while she did her hourly examinations."

"Us?" Winston inquired. "Does that mean Charlie's here, too?"

Felicia nodded. "He's still in the room with Peter. Has Dr. Stephens been here to talk to you?"

"No, there were just nurses at the station by the door. Why?" The black man narrowed his eyes as his companions grew tense.

"I don't want to say this." The older woman paused and took a deep breath as she closed her eyes briefly. She opened them as she continued. "But I have to. Boys, when we got here this morning we found out that Peter had slipped into a coma last night." The three men started in surprise. "He's still breathing on his own, but just barely. They're watching him very closely. I'm sorry."

"It's not your fault," Egon said blankly, as if by rote. The petite lady had caught the flash of panic in the pale blue eyes before the mask of stoicism was put in place.

"The doctor said it wasn't entirely unexpected in a situation like this," the older woman said in an attempt at reassurance, making sure to direct the statement to all of them. "Considering the shock Peter's body went through, at least. Dr. Stephens said he doesn't expect it to last too long." The seated men merely nodded as they absorbed the new, distressing information.

"I most certainly don't," said doctor asserted from behind them as he walked up. "He doesn't appear to be suffering from any of the major underlying symptoms, although we'll continue to monitor for them. And this doesn't change what I said last night. As soon as I'm sure he's stable, I plan on transferring him to a regular single room where you can see him all you want - within reason, of course. I think it'll be even more important."

Ray turned around quickly, his eyes wide. "I wasn't expecting to see you until tonight, Doctor. Why are you here now?"

Stephens shrugged. "This is my regular shift. Your friend's arrival caught me just before I went off last night. He's recovering from the surgery quite well, by the way, aside from the coma. When he wakes up I expect him to bounce back completely."

"You're sure, Doc?" Winston asked.

"I swear on my Hippocratic Oath - that's exactly what I _expect_."

"Fair enough. So you'll let us know when Pete's moved?" the black man queried for all of them, having taken a glance around at the pale, frightened faces that surrounded him.

The young physician nodded. "As soon as I can. And now I need to get back to my rounds. I'll talk to you soon." He gave the quartet an encouraging smile and left.

Felicia's lips twitched upward in an attempt at the same. "From what I can see, they're taking good care of him. I think I'll go back in now. I'll be back to join you for lunch." She met each set of eyes briefly and headed back to Peter's room.

Once they were left alone, the concerned and scared friends shared a long look that communicated their thoughts and affirmed their united determination to be there for one another until Peter pulled through. Then they settled into their seats to wait.

* * *

Janine arrived from New York just in time to join the guys and Felicia for a late supper, leaving after Charlie came back up from the cafeteria. When they returned, they found that Peter's condition had finally stabilized, and he was in the process of being transferred to a regular room. The doctor on call informed them it would take some time, and that no one would be allowed to see him until visiting hours the next morning. Let down, the six of them made their way back to the motel and another restless night.

In the morning, the sunrise found the younger men and Janine up with first light, anxious for their first chance to see their friend since he had been flown to North Platte. They took their turns in the shower and went to the diner down the street for breakfast, trying to kill time before visiting hours started at nine. Felicia and Charlie had told them they would meet them at the hospital, and so it was just the four of them.

At quarter to nine, Egon, Ray, Winston, and Janine were asking the receptionist at the information desk in the front lobby where Peter had been moved to. They went up to the third floor, and Brett Stephens was waiting for them when they got there. "Good morning, lady and gentlemen," he greeted them cordially as they stepped out of the elevator and toward the nurses' station. "Thank you for following Dr. Worthing's instructions, as hard as I'm sure it must have been. If the other two members of your party are any indication, it was almost impossible."

"Mr. Venkman and Felicia are here?" Ray asked. "I thought they were going to meet us."

"Well, Mr. Venkman got here around eight, and I let him go in early when I saw how anxious he was. Mrs. Atkinson showed up about a half hour later and the nurse told her the same thing. There is something I wanted to speak with you about before you went in to see Peter, however." The doctor's look turned serious.

Four sets of eyes widened. "What is it? Is something wrong with Peter?" Egon asked quickly.

"No, no, nothing like that. I'm just going to have to ask you if you wouldn't mind seeing him in shifts. With his father and grandmother already in there, the four of you would cause overstimulation, and that could be detrimental to Peter's recovery. I don't want to stop you from going in, but I'd like you to take it easy on the man until he wakes up. Maybe one of you every hour, and if one of the others leaves, another one could take his or her place." The bright hazel eyes were softly pleading.

The three Ghostbusters and their secretary blinked and shot each other a speculative look. "I certainly wouldn't want to hamper Peter's healing in any way," Egon began.

"Definitely," Ray concurred.

"So how about we do it this way? Egon will go first, then Ray, me, and Janine. Then we'll start all over. That work for you guys?" Winston offered, a spark in the back of his eyes the only indication of what it was costing him to wait that long.

The other three caught it. "Thank you, Winston," Janine whispered, her expression lightening with a small smile as Ray blew out a tiny tense breath and nodded.

The tall blond also nodded his agreement and checked his watch. "I won't be any longer than an hour. Is it all right if I go in now?" he asked the waiting Stephens.

He gestured down the hall. "Be my guest, Doctor Spengler. And thank you again. You make this easy." He walked away without an explanation for his last comment.

"We'll be here in the waiting room, Egon," Ray called after the physicist with a barely raised voice. "Let us know if anything happens."

"Of course." Egon continued on his way to the room he had been told his friend was now ensconced in, pausing when he reached the closed door to gather himself for the sight he knew was waiting for him. As he stood there, he could have sworn he heard sharp whispered words from inside, but when he reached for the knob and turned it, the sound was gone. He slipped inside quietly, taking note of Felicia in the chair closest to him staring at Peter's lax features intently and Charlie on the opposite side doing the same. "Good morning," he said quietly. "Ray, Winston, Janine, and I will be taking turns joining you. We were warned not to overstimulate Peter." His pale blues had immediately returned to the brown-haired man's face after acknowledging the other occupants.

It was quite a shock to see the normally vivacious man lying almost lifeless under the white sheets, tubes and wires running from him to various machines on either side of the bed, and a thick bandage hiding most of the pampered brown locks. He'd seen his friend injured before, of course, but it never seemed this close to... final. Egon swallowed hard, doing everything in his power to remain in control even while his imagination took that last thought and ran with it.

"My boy's a fighter, Egon," Charlie added, as much for his own benefit as for his son's best friend, looking up and seeing the standing man's Adam's Apple bob up and down. "You know that." The blond nodded as he sat rigidly in the chair Felicia silently offered and took Peter's right hand.

"You're not the only one that can lay claim on him you know," Felicia whispered harshly over Egon's head.

"I've certainly got more right than you," Charlie snarled back.

"Now who's fault is that? You're the one that kicked me out of your life."

"You're the one that betrayed my father."

"Do you really need someone to blame that much?"

All three people surrounding Peter's bed snapped their attention to the head of the bed at the sound of the new voice. Eyelids hung heavily at half mast, revealing slices of dull green. Egon quickly looked from side to side, noting that none of the monitors seemed to be reacting to Peter's apparent recovery. "I... I don't believe that was Peter's voice," he said hesitantly, wishing that he were wrong.

"But... it has to be..." Charlie gave the blond across from him a pleading look.

"You worry about your son, but you spend more time blaming your mother for your pain. How is this well done?" Peter's lips moved with the words, but it was not the psychologist's familiar tenor that brought them to his listener's ears. This voice was deeper, a lighter baritone with a definite accent.

Confusion etched itself onto the older man's expression. "What can you know about it?"

"I know because I listen. And I am not the only one who hears your words. Why is it a father's pleas, a father's voice, cannot compel a son to return? Why is it this other man's voice that makes a spark inside the son? This, I do not understand." Egon barely felt a squeeze from the hand he continued to hold before it let go entirely.

"Who are you?" Felicia asked, coming closer to the bed.

The bandaged, brown-haired head turned slightly in her direction. "I can understand you better, although your actions were still not well done. But your motives were right. Love can lead us to do many things we would not normally do."

"I... I don't understand," the woman stammered.

Egon watched the interplay and pulled out his PKE meter as a suspicion occurred to him. Switching the device on, he was soon proven correct. "You're one of the Decker ghosts, aren't you?" he asked in a tone that suggested he already knew the answer.

A small smile formed on Peter's face. "You are very quick. I am Gerritt Decker to be precise."

"Fascinating," Egon said, making a slight adjustment to the meter. "Why are you still here and in Peter's body?"

"The battle Peter fought was hard won. Trevaire had drained his body and had begun on his soul. When he channeled all of our power, it left his own energy levels dangerously low. His soul could not recover its own life force and maintain his body at the same time. The rest of us agreed to keep his body alive while his soul healed. We would do him an injustice to do anything less."

"What makes you say that? Didn't you already get what you wanted out of this?" Charlie asked, bewildered by the whole turn of events.

"It is good to know the son learned what the father could not. Peter was willing to give up his life to save his family, the people most important to him. But why should death be the reward for such a brave and noble act? We had the power to save him; thus we used it."

"How long will he be like this?" Felicia asked quietly, unsure of how to take this.

"I cannot be certain. I never studied medicine, and neither has Peter."

"Is that how you can speak English?" Egon asked, intrigued by the spirit's story. "I thought I recognized a Dutch accent."

"Peter needed to open himself up completely to channel our energy in the battle against Trevaire, and thus we all learned things we did not previously know. We did warn him of this before he agreed - we would not have done anything against his will. I sense that is important to you..." Gerritt paused in an attempt to think of something.

"Egon," the blond supplied. "My name is Doctor Egon Spengler."

"A pleasure to meet you, Egon Spengler. Your face I have seen in Peter's mind, but we chose not to pry into his personal thoughts and memories. We only touched him enough to be able to communicate with him and to direct our energies through him. He is our kin; we would not violate his trust further than that."

"And I am grateful to you for that," Egon replied.

"Now I must go, for my power grows weak. There will be others here until Peter is able to awaken on his own. But remember, he must desire to wake before he will. Farewell, my kin, and you as well, Egon Spengler. Perhaps we will meet again." Peter's eyes shut and his head sank further into his pillows.

"Is... he gone?" Felicia asked warily.

Egon checked his meter. "Gerritt's readings have withdrawn, yes. But he was correct when he said there are others here. The meter still reads multiple entities."

"As long as they don't hurt my boy," Charlie said, a slight tremor in his gravelly voice the only clue that he was struggling to recapture his equilibrium.

"Weren't you listening?" the only woman in the room said in exasperation. "Gerritt just said they wanted to save him, not hurt him."

"Please, the both of you," Egon said, rising to his feet. "Remember that Peter can hear you. And we were just warned that Peter has to want to come back before he wakes up. Do you really think he'll want to come back to a never-ending argument? Would you?" He checked his watch as mother and son continued to glare silently at each other. "While my hour is not quite up, I believe Ray, Winston, and Janine need to be informed of the situation regarding Peter. I'll send one of them in as soon as we're finished with our discussion. Please, just think of Peter before you speak. That's all I ask." He gave them one last stern look and left the room.

* * *

Two days later, while Egon sat a little ways away from Peter's bed as Nurse Sarah ran through her hourly checks and daily exercise of Peter's unused limbs to prevent atrophy of the muscles and bedsores, talking to him softly but cheerfully, the blond man considered the medical staff he had witnessed at work, in particular Doctor Stephens. They were a caring, professional group that made him very glad his oldest friend was in their capable hands, but the physicist didn't think he'd seen any evidence of wrongdoing that would cause the administration's animosity toward the young doctor as the man had suggested was the case. It was the general opinion of the three Ghostbusters, Janine, Felicia, and even Charlie during the few, brief times he would actually be social with them that Brett Stephens was a wonderful doctor and all-around good egg. There had to be an answer to the little problem Egon had chosen to focus on to keep his mind off his more pressing issues.

As the young woman made her entries on the supine man's chart then headed for the door, Egon stood and followed. "Excuse me, Nurse Sarah? May I speak with you a moment?" he queried politely.

The strawberry blonde stopped with her hand on the knob and looked back over her shoulder. "Certainly, Doctor Spengler. What can I help you with?"

"If we could?" The tall man gestured toward the unopened door, and the pair slipped quietly into the hall, Felicia's curious gaze on them the entire way. "May I ask you a question about Doctor Stephens?" he asked once the door had shut behind them.

She blinked in surprise. "Doctor Stephens? What did you want to know?"

"When he introduced himself after Peter's operation, he mentioned he tends to get into trouble with the administration. Would you be able to tell me why?"

"Oh, you want to know about _that_." A subtle, wary look transformed her elfin features, and she glanced from right to left as though looking for anyone who might overhear. "Doctor Stephens is quite a forward thinker around here, Doctor Spengler. He's a believer in holistic medicine. You know, whole body?" Egon nodded. "Well, the higher-ups are older men, set in their ways, afraid of change. Doctor Stephens has been pushing to add programs and personnel that would be aimed at all the different needs a patient might require, including help for the patient's family and friends. He's even gotten the Board of Directors interested in some of them. That, of course, makes the admins look bad. They certainly don't want to be shown up by the junior-most member of the staff. So they watch him, take him to task for the little bends in the rules he makes when he thinks it's in the best interest of the patient or their families. You know, like letting people in before actual visiting hours have started, or staying for a short time after they're finished - like he's been doing for you. They're building their case on a lot of tiny infractions that would probably be overlooked in someone else." She gave a tiny pout.

Egon smiled slightly. "I take it you don't agree with that assessment."

"No way. He's the best one around here when it comes to dealing with the patients, and that's saying nothing about how he treats the nurses. We spend the most time with the people we're caring for, and a lot of the time we're expected not to offer any kind of opinion on their treatment. Now I understand that I'm not a doctor; I didn't go through all that training. But I know my stuff, and my opinion should at least be taken into consideration. Doctor Stephens does that. He doesn't always act on our advice, but he listens. You can't ask for more than that. But they don't like that either. I'm afraid of what could happen to him. He's too good a doctor, too good a man to lose." The young woman bit her lower lip as she considered the possibilities.

"I would agree. All of us appreciate what he's been doing for Peter, what all of you have been doing. Thank you for your time, Nurse Sarah. I hope I haven't kept you from anything."

She glanced at her watch. "No, I'm all right. But I should get going." She gave the taller man a bright smile and took a few steps down the hall. "Thank you, by the way. It's nice to be appreciated." She disappeared into another room.

Egon looked after her for a few moments, then sighed and shook his head. Politics. It figured that it all came down to politics. He stepped back into Peter's room and gazed at his comatose friend. Peter certainly would have had plenty to say on the subject if he had any idea what was going on. He always seemed to be fighting for the underdog. The blond's smile faded away at the thought. If anyone was an underdog right now, it was Peter himself. And he could only hope that the stubborn man who was such an important part of his life wouldn't back away from this particular fight. There was just too much to lose.

* * *

Another two days went by. Felicia and Charlie appeared to be wrangling at each other on a regular basis, but no one could prove it. Everything was quiet whenever someone else entered the room, both parties watching Peter intensely. They didn't really speak to each other; their civil words were all directed toward the man in the bed.

The guys and Janine did the same, minus the arguing. They only spent enough time in their motel rooms to shower and shave and catch what little sleep they could between the hours of time allotted for visiting. The rest of the time, when they weren't sitting quietly with Peter, talking to him in an attempt to bring him back, they were sitting and talking with each other, giving each other the support they needed to make it through this latest crisis.

The other thing that kept everyone on their toes was the appearance of various members of the Decker clan, usually in response to Charlie's more outrageous comments and accusations that he threw at Felicia while the guys switched places. Ray, Winston, and Janine had also been witness to the strange possession of Peter's body, and all of Peter's friends had been approved of. Each time they said that Peter was still recovering, but would only return if he wanted to. This led to Egon's latest threat on the fifth night at the hospital just before storming out to return to his motel room near the end of visiting hours.

"If we lose Peter when this is all over, I am holding the both of you completely and inexcusably responsible," the physicist said in a cold voice. "You have both been told on numerous occasions by your ancestors that your disagreements are detrimental to Peter's mental health and his desire to return. Yet, neither of you can refrain from goading the other into these meaningless squabbles. While I have noticed Felicia attempt to halt things before they go too far the two times I've caught you at it, you, Mister Venkman, have no self-control whatsoever when no one else is around. Your accusations and cheap shots seem to make up the entirety of your conversations with Felicia as of late. You both seem to forget that Peter is listening, and what he hears may make the difference between life and death for him. While I am confident that the Deckers will do what they can to keep his body alive long enough for his spirit to recover, that spirit can't want to just let go. And I know that Winston, Raymond, Janine, and I cannot allow him to go. No matter what you may believe, that is the fact of the matter, and I do not know what we would do if your pettiness, the pettiness of both of you, caused Peter to choose to leave." At that point Egon had obviously reached the end of his control and he turned on his heel and left without another word.

The next morning, the eighth they had been in Nebraska, Egon, Ray, Janine, and Winston arrived at the hospital just as visiting hours began. They had just taken their customary seats after greeting the desk staff when Doctor Brett Stephens walked up to them. "I hear you left in a bit of a huff last night, Egon," the young doctor commented with a sparkle in his eyes. "Wish I could have seen that. And it seemed to have left quite an impression on the happy little family. They haven't said _anything_."

"That may not be a good thing, doc," Winston commented wryly. "Peter needs to know someone's there. He's always hated being alone."

"Especially in a hospital," Janine added.

"Well, each of them may have been saying things while they had their usual time alone with him," Stephens amended. "Peter's father was in at his usual eight o'clock while his grandmother came in a half hour later. The receptionist at the front desk was startled by the way he stormed past to get his usual cup of coffee once she got here."

"I can't believe he won't let go of his anger, not even for Peter," Ray murmured.

"He's held onto it for too long I think, Ray," Winston said as he put an arm around the redheaded man's shoulders and squeezed. "I'm not sure he can let it go."

The occultist sighed. "I think I'll go check if Charlie's back yet. I wouldn't want Peter to think he was alone." He stood and went down the hall to Peter's room.

"This is hard on him, isn't it?" the doctor asked, looking after Ray with a sympathetic expression.

"He has a large heart," Egon said simply. "That, and I believe he's still feeling guilt over not having told Peter about Felicia."

Winston shook his head. "Man, only Pete's gonna be able to fix that one."

Janine nodded her agreement. "That's for sure. From what you guys told me, there's no way he could have done anything different. Doctor V will make sure he knows that." She looked at the doctor. "Is there any chance he'll wake up soon, Doctor Stephens?"

"I can't be sure. I'm still astounded about the presence of the ghosts. I'm not sure I can believe it. Don't get me wrong," he said hurriedly before any one of the three could lodge a complaint. "I've heard about you in the news and I think what you deal with is real. But it's a lot easier to accept when I'm in North Platte, Nebraska and you're in New York City."

The black man grinned and slapped the doctor on the back. "We get that kind of reaction all the time, even in New York."

"Would you say there's no medical reason for Peter to still be in the coma?" Egon asked.

"No, I'm not saying that exactly. It's always hard to tell when a coma patient will wake up; we don't know every why and wherefore there is to the human brain. But the tests we've run don't suggest anything major that would keep him in the state he's in. Your theory that his soul is healing is just as good as anything else I can come up with." Stephens smiled. "You know, life got a whole lot more interesting since you came to town. I think you're good for me."

Before Egon, Winston, or Janine could respond, Ray came running back up to them. "You gotta come see this!" he exclaimed. "He made her cry!" He took off again toward Peter's room with the others in tow.

"What the heck are you talking about?" Winston asked as the five of them reached Peter's room.

The scene inside answered his question, at least in part. Felicia glared silently across the man in the bed's chest at Charlie, who wore a scornful look as he continued to speak in low tones. The woman's face was tear-streaked and pale, and her form shook either from sorrow or rage.

Either way, it was a bad thing, and the group of them decided to stop it before it got any worse. "And you have no right, no right at all, to claim that you loved my father in the slightest. There's no way you could convince me it's true," the older man was saying as Ray led the others inside.

"What is going on here?" Doctor Stephens asked using his full authoritative tone.

"We... were just having a short discussion," Felicia said without making eye contact with any of the newcomers, turning away to furtively remove the evidence of her tears.

"I'll bet," Winston said skeptically.

"Look, just don't get involved, okay?" Charlie asked a bit desperately. "This is between me and her."

"It is family matter, thus involves me," a new voice said commandingly in thickly-accented, broken English from the head of the bed as Egon's PKE meter started beeping an alarm. The blond man turned down the volume as he checked the readings.

"Another Decker?" Ray asked, leaning over to look at the display.

"It appears so, but if that is the case, this is the most powerful we have encountered yet. I'm reading a powerful Class Four." Egon's brows drew together in contemplation.

"Another Decker?" Stephens parroted, frozen in stunned shock. "Are you saying those ghosts you mentioned are still here? And why did that voice sound like it came from my patient, the same patient that according to all of my monitoring equipment is still deep in a coma?"

"You said we made life interesting, Doc. Think what it must be like for us." The black man, who stood closest to the floundering doctor, laughed ruefully and shook his head. "Welcome to our world."

"The ghosts of Peter's ancestors have been occupying his body to support it while his soul regains the energy it lost during the battle with the demon that brought us out here. That's why they're here. Every now and again one will talk to us through Peter," Ray explained from his position at the far end of the line from the doctor to the right of Egon, his excitement over the odd situation coming through his worry. He shrugged and smiled. "It looks like this is one of those times."

"You mean he's possessed?" the doctor asked, jaw dropping.

"Not precisely," Egon corrected, still looking at the meter's display. "The meter is registering Peter's normal biorhythms with a strong overlay, yet they aren't exactly intertwined as they would be in the case of a true possession. This would be more akin to two spirits sharing the same host, the visitor not attempting to assert control. I believe the only reason we have been able to speak with any of these spirits at all is because Peter has withdrawn entirely." Only Ray, Janine, and Winston noticed how the physicist's voice shook with that pronouncement.

"But there's a ghost inside Peter Venkman's body," Stephens said in an attempt to clarify.

"That would be a big yes," Winston confirmed.

The dark hazel eyes narrowed as the physician contemplated his patient. "It's not hurting him, is it?" he asked protectively, obviously concerned.

"No, of course not," Ray protested immediately. "We wouldn't have let any ghost stay inside Peter if it was hurting him. They're just helping your machines sustain Peter's body until his soul is ready to do the job again."

"You can trust these guys. They definitely know what they're talking about," Janine assured the doctor.

"Oh, this is pointless," Charlie snapped, his eyes darting between the standing people's discussion and his son's face. "I just don't understand why they keep feeling the need to talk to us. This is my boy they're messing with."

"He is also descendant," the new voice added sternly, the pitch as low as Peter's normal range could go, usually when the psychologist was sick or tired. "And we speak to intervene when it is duty to do so. We hear your words, father of our line's champion, and do not understand them. Do you not understand importance of family? Do you not understand value of love found there? Why is it a father's pleas, a father's voice, cannot compel a son to return?"

At that, the elder Venkman jumped to his feet, the plastic chair he had been sitting in shooting across the room and into the far wall. "Why do you keep asking that? I don't know! I don't know why he doesn't listen! I beg and I beg, and he doesn't come back! I can't lose him! He's all I have left! I... I love him! He knows I do, just like I know he loves me, too. He's always there for me when I need him, so I just don't know why he doesn't come back now!"

"But you do not truly value it," the strange voice calmly replied. "You do not truly know what is threatened to be lost. You speak to him of trivial things, things that only hold importance to you, things that hold no interest for him. And you attack your mother, woman that brought you into this world, woman that was willing to face wrath of demon that would do her no harm if she remained silent, so that you would not have to face it without knowledge. She did this with no thought of reward, no thought of reconciliation. She did this out of love. And Peter stood his ground, used almost last of strength, to defeat demon Trevaire, to prevent him ever harming those he loves and holds dear.

"But what have you done? You nearly hindered actions, allowing petty hurts and concerns to endanger him you claim to love so much. You nearly prevented those Peter holds dear from completing spell that allowed final battle to take place. All for misplaced blame for something that has no source of blame. You take your mother to task even as your son lay here on brink of death, concerned only with hurting her as you felt she did you. And you claim to love so deeply? You who cannot acknowledge one may love again? You would condemn me then, and I would find you false, for you have closed mind to possibilities of such redemption for yourself."

Winston drew in a sharp breath. "Oh my god, guys, it's Hans Decker. This is Hans Decker himself!"

Egon blinked at the announcement. "I believe you are correct, Winston. That would explain the more powerful readings, as the patriarch of the family line."

The half-lidded green eyes, dull as they always were without Peter's true self to light them, shifted slightly to take in the standing witnesses. "Yes, I am Hans Decker. I commend you for insight. May I ask who you are and why you are here?"

The medical doctor cleared his throat and took a small, nervous step forward. "I'm Doctor Brett Stephens, Mister Decker. I... I'm Peter's doctor while he's here at the hospital. I..." His voice trailed off. "I can't believe I'm talking to a ghost," he muttered as he stepped back into line.

Winston grinned and patted the shoulder of the flabbergasted man as Ray cleared his throat. "Um, hi. I'm Doctor Raymond Stantz, but you can call me Ray. I'm here because I'm worried about Peter. He's one of my best friends, and I can't bear to think about losing him." The redhead stopped abruptly and bit his lower lip, tears threatening to overwhelm him as though he hadn't really accepted the possibility of that before.

"That's why I'm here, too," Winston added quietly but firmly, giving the physician one last squeeze while Egon put a comforting arm around Ray's shoulders. "Pete's too important to me to let him go. The name's Winston Zeddemore."

"Me too," Janine said quickly, taking a slight step forward. "My name's Janine Melnitz, and Peter and I may fight like cats and dogs, but underneath it all I know that he's one of the people out there I can really count on no matter what. There's no way I can let him go."

There was a brief bit of silence before Egon began to speak, his arm falling away from Ray. "My colleagues have done a more than adequate job of describing our reasons for our presence in Peter's hospital room. But I will add my own reason to theirs." The blond took a shaky breath to regain the composure he somewhat lost at the sight of Ray's near-breakdown. "My name is Doctor Egon Spengler, and I've known Peter for approximately fifteen years now. We met in college, and we have formed such a solid friendship that I do not know what I would ever do without it. Life would never be the same without him, and if there's anything I can do to prevent experiencing that loss, I will do it, as I know Ray and Winston and Janine would do as well." His three friends nodded their agreement. "We understand that the final step must be Peter's, but we are grateful to you and the others for providing him the chance to make that choice. Thank you."

Felicia watched the three men she had summoned along with her grandson as well as their secretary, and was deeply moved by the emotion she heard in their voices. She glanced to her left and saw Hans Decker, as he watched them out of Peter's eyes, weigh their responses carefully. Beyond him, Charlie stood, his fists clenching and unclenching, his form trembling, his whole demeanor unsure. But she had no doubt he would cover such insecurity with a blustering show of confidence if pressed. He'd done that since the day of his father's funeral so long ago.

"I see you speak truth, and it does you great credit. I have no objection to presence, and indeed, thank you for part in making defeat of Trevaire possible." The eyes moved on to the older woman in the room. "I am sorry for your son's harsh words in regards to your mother, although I am glad you were able to speak with her one last time. But she was correct in one regard: why did you not fight for son? I know how much he means to you, and I know your strength of spirit. But I am bewildered by your actions. Why did you let him go? Why did you not fight?"

The silver-haired woman stared at her ancestor that spoke to her through the lips of her descendant and struggled to find words. "I've often thought about that exact question," she said finally, so softly that the occupants of the room strained to hear her. "Jerry asked me that, too, knowing how it wasn't like me to give up like that. It took me a long time to understand, but I think I finally do. There's a part of me that agrees with him, that I betrayed Wallace by marrying Jerry. I know I didn't, that he would have been happy I could find it in my heart to love again - he always only wanted my happiness. I suppose that's the reason why I went through with my plans to remarry even though Charlie didn't approve. Another part of me felt betrayed and angered by my son's actions, and stubbornly dug my heels into the ground and decided that he'd have to come to me for us to make up. But most of all I was scared, scared of finding him and being rejected for things beyond my control, for a repeat of the scene he treated me to when he left the first time. I had lost my son once; I couldn't bear to lose him a second time, especially if it meant I'd lose even more if he'd made himself a family."

"It is good you know this, even if knowledge comes so late in life," Hans said approvingly. "It is unfortunate that you have known Peter for such short period of time. You might have been able to call him back from darkness. But that is not how things are." He sighed and returned his gaze to the ceiling above him. "I believe I have said all that can be said at this time. Nothing more would be heeded, and my energy grows dim. I must leave now, and with that will Peter be forced to make choice. I can only hope he has heard enough to compel him to stay. He has earned long, happy life with those he loves. Farewell. Perhaps we will meet again." With that, the emerald greens were shuttered once more and Egon's PKE meter ceased its silent flashing.

In the next moment, other alarms took the meter's place as all the medical equipment began sounding their warnings and Peter himself began thrashing about on the bed. He appeared to be going into violent convulsions, and for a few seconds everyone just looked at him, shocked. Doctor Stephens was the first to act, glancing at the nearest monitor and taking off out the door, calling for assistance.

This seemed to break the horrified trance the others had been in. Charlie stepped forward quickly, snatching his son's flailing left hand and gripping it as though that alone would stop the wicked motions. "Peter! Peter, it's me, your dad! Please, you have to come back. You have to! You're all I have left!"

Doctor Stephens and his medical team came rushing back in just as Peter unconsciously shook off his father's hold, causing the older man to take a couple steps back, stunned. The nurses began to move around the bed, putting equipment into place as Stephens took a closer look at the patient and the monitors and Felicia took her turn up to bat. "Peter, I know we haven't known each other very long, but please stay. Give me the chance to know you, and yourself the chance to know me. You're a special young man, and I can honestly say that I love you." Her voice nearly cracked as she finished her plea.

But it was for naught. While he held on a little longer than he had for Charlie, in the end there was the same result. Tears welled up in her dark brown eyes, but she nodded and backed away, allowing a nurse to move next to the bed. "All right, people, I need you out!" Doctor Stephens barked. "We need room to work!" He nodded to the nurse on the other side of the bed by Charlie.

The three Ghostbusters and Janine had backed against the wall opposite the bed in an attempt to get out of the way, and when the petite nurse began herding Charlie around the bed toward the door, she attempted to gather up them as well. They had taken a few reluctant steps, Winston noticing the same reluctance in Felicia as the other nurse did the same with her, when Charlie made an abortive move back toward the supine psychologist. With the nurse's attention focused on preventing that, Ray slipped by her other side with a choked cry and made a beeline for Peter's side.

"Peter!" he cried as he gathered up the hand that had just moments before shook off that of his father. "Peter, please! You can't go, you can't! What would we do without you? How could we be the Ghostbusters without you?" His voice caught on a choked sob. "How can I get a chance to say I'm sorry?" he barely managed to get out, giving a desperate squeeze.

As the rest of the room looked on, stunned at this latest development, the redhead's grip was returned and that arm stopped its thrashing. The rest of his body still twitched, slightly calmer than before. The other three took that as their cue and rushed over to join Ray, both noting the tears that streamed down their partner's cheeks. "Raymond is correct, Peter," the blond physicist said with only a slight tremor as he took Peter's right hand and held on tight. "You cannot go. You cannot choose to leave us. This team needs the four of us – five with Janine - to be whole. We've dealt a lot with bloodlines and family ties over this past week, but we made our bond by choice, and I will be very upset with you if you break it." He took a deep breath and bowed his head, bringing their joined hands up to touch his forehead. "Please, Peter. Stay."

"You better stay, Pete," Winston added, standing at Egon's right and gripping Peter's right shin as the brown-haired man's movements grew even more subdued. "Leaving now would be the coward's way out, and the Peter Venkman I know isn't a coward. Lazy, maybe, and definitely vain, but not a coward." He gave the leg a light shake. "Besides," the black man continued with a tremble in his voice, "you still have chores to finish at the firehouse, on top of your promise that you'd actually go to a couple of Jaguars games with me before the end of the season." He paused, his jaw clenching as he got his emotions back under control. "Don't go, Pete. Felicia's not the only one here who loves you."

"If you think you can leave without signing my last paycheck, you've got another thing coming, Doctor V," Janine tearily snapped from beside Ray, her hand mirroring Winston's on Peter's left shin. "Not to mention how lost we'd all be without you. Yeah," she continued with a sniff, her free hand swiping at her eyes under her glasses to keep the tears there from falling, "I'm including me, too. So don't you dare make me regret admitting that. You stay right here where you belong." Her jaw clenched as she gave Peter's leg another squeeze.

As the eight people in the room watched, Peter's form relaxed, settling back onto the pillow and under the disheveled covers. He gave each hand he held a squeeze and an acknowledging shake of each of his legs before completely going lax. Doctor Stephens moved forward, eyes wide, and checked Peter's vitals. "He's alive; he's still with us. He's fallen back into his coma, but not as deeply as he was before. In fact, I'd say he was on his way to waking up." He turned a gently smiling face to the four people holding vigil at the bedside. "I think he's made his choice, and he's chosen to stay. You did it, lady and gentlemen." He gave a nod to the two nurses and they came over to do a precautionary once-over before leaving the room.

Charlie stood back and watched the scene unfold, eyes stricken as the people his son had chosen as his family had done what he, the family his son had been born with, could not. His breath came a bit easier once Peter had relaxed back into unconsciousness, and the doctor's words were a balm to his soul. But they were also a double-edged sword. The questions of his ancestors haunted him as the two nurses returned to their other duties, having been repeated through the unsuspecting comments of the young physician. And he still could not answer them. Why wouldn't Peter hear him? Why wouldn't he respond to his pleas? They knew they loved each other, right? Why wasn't that enough? Unable to answer these queries either, the balding man, feeling older than he ever had, slipped quietly out of the room to escape the never-ending riddles.


	6. Chapter 6

_Well, here we are, folks, the last chapter of my tale. Thank you so much to everyone who's been along for the ride - and to everyone who comes along later, too! I hope you enjoy, and feel free to let me know what you think!_

* * *

Once Peter had slipped into unconsciousness again, things went back to the way they had been running up to that point. Felicia and Charlie were in the room with him almost constantly, while Ray, Winston, Janine, and Egon cycled through their hour-long intervals. With two hours left before visiting hours were over, Ray took his place in the chair that had been brought in for the Ghostbusters to use for their part of the vigil, magazine in hand. The other two were silently sitting and watching the recumbent man in the bed as part of their agreement to be able to stay. "Don't worry, Peter," Ray said softly before opening up the periodical. "I'll be here for the next hour, then Winston will take last watch before we have to go get some sleep." He gave the unconscious man a shaky grin. "You'd think they wanted us to stay healthy or something." Unable to keep up the lighthearted mood, the engineer moved as close to the bed as he could, reached a hand through the guard to rest it lightly on the other man's right shin, and opened his magazine, mostly just looking at the pictures as he couldn't seem to focus on the words at all.

Forty-five minutes later, Ray had disappeared into the bathroom and Charlie suddenly hopped to his feet and began pacing along the side of the bed, inwardly frustrated at how much time his son had spent in this comatose state. He glanced at the door where Ray had gone and back down at Peter. The brown-haired man still lay there peacefully, his breathing deep and steady. He'd begun to get restless just before Charlie had returned from his trek down to the cafeteria earlier, and now impatience was just as much a part of the reason for his pacing as frustration.

Felicia watched her son carefully as he walked back and forth, his moves abrupt and jerky. Her eyes softened in sympathy, yet she dared not say anything for fear of starting another argument. She knew she wasn't forgiven, no matter that his blame wasn't just. She'd always known that. But if it was the only way her boy could deal with his grief...

As suddenly as he had arisen, Charlie flopped back down on his chair, reaching forward to take Peter's lax hand. "Peter, my boy, I know I couldn't reach you before, but now that you're here don't turn away from me. You've gotta snap out of this. There's pretty nurses and big headlines waiting for you. Can you imagine? 'Ghostbuster Ends Own Family Curse.' They'll be eating you up. Talk shows, articles - as much attention as you can stand. And think of the publicity for the business! You guys will be swimming in work and money. All because my boy was brave enough to stand up to that demon. I'm proud of you, son."

His voice trailed off as he ran out of words to say, his head leaning down to rest on the mattress. And thus it was he missed seeing the first fluttering of Peter's eyelids, Felicia doing the same with her eyes so riveted on the distraught father. It took the slight shift of the patient's head to get his visitors' attention, both immediately turning their gazes to the younger man's face.

Peter blinked a few times in silence, the lids never rising above the halfway mark for very long. His vision soon cleared enough for him to be comfortable, and he released a small breath of relief. "Peter?" Charlie's gravelly voice asked shakily from the left side of the bed, hope flaring up in his eyes. "Peter, are you awake?"

The groggy green eyes shifted in the direction of the words, fixing themselves on the older man's face. Brown brows slowly creased together as a look of confusion transformed Peter's features, and his breathing became shallow and quick as Charlie watched the struggle take place in the emerald depths. Felicia gasped as the younger man tugged a bit on the hand that held his own, not as a complete rejection, but as a sign of obvious bewilderment as to his situation. The sound brought the gaze in her direction, filled with no more comprehension than it had held when it focused on her son.

"Oh, Peter," she breathed. "You don't recognize us, do you?" She held herself together only through great effort.

Peter's head moved slightly from side to side before Charlie squeezing the hand he still held brought the psychologist's attention back to him. The old con man could only take that blank gaze for so long before he brought his head up and barely to the side, his ears catching the muffled sound of Ray using the bathroom sink.

Charles Venkman was not a stupid man by any stretch of the imagination. A man couldn't have survived on his wits alone like he had for as long as he had if he had been. It took no time at all for him to realize that his son's best chance lay with the three men and one woman who had convinced him to stay in the first place. "Go get Ray," he whispered, although his heart was breaking with the knowledge that he couldn't help his son in any other way. "Tell him to come out here."

Felicia shifted her dark brown eyes in a flash to her son's face. It didn't take her long to read the answer that was written there. After all, Charlie's brains hadn't formed out of nothing. "I'll be right back." She stepped over to the closed door and knocked, her next words an unintelligible murmur against the slight crack her motion had caused.

The man in the short-sleeved dress shirt and undone bow tie - he had put aside the loud jackets days ago - looked at the struggle continuing to twist Peter's features for a moment before releasing the man's hand on the next tug. "I don't want to make you uncomfortable, Peter," he said softly.

The green eyes softened slightly as the door opened and Ray and Felicia came back into the room proper. The redheaded engineer's light brown eyes were wide and filled with hope, and he walked slowly over to the bed. Sitting in Felicia's chair, he placed a hand lightly on the mattress. "Peter?" he asked quietly. "Are you okay?"

Peter turned a weary and confused countenance toward the new voice, his brows again furrowing as he tried to place the face he was seeing. Ray impulsively took up his friend's hand and gave it a gentle squeeze. "You don't have to worry, Peter. I'm here. Everything will be okay." There was no response as tears began to well up in the supine man's eyes and Ray's positive expression slipped for a moment. "You really don't remember me, do you?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper. Felicia stepped up behind him and put her hands on his shoulders comfortingly.

The brown head shook from side to side as the tears that had formed ran down pale cheeks. "No," he breathed, the tenor almost inaudible. "But I want to." The piercing emerald greens, half-lidded though they were, remained fixed on Ray's round features.

"Then you will, Peter. I know you will."

The silver-haired lady raised her head and made eye contact with the silent man on the other side of the bed. Charlie gave her a short nod and went back to watching his son. Felicia gave Ray's shoulders one last squeeze and left the room.

Not five minutes later, Egon, Winston, and Janine rushed into the room, freezing as three sets of eyes fell on them. "How are you, Pete?" Winston asked gently as he noticed the lost look in his friend's gaze, and the way he tightened his grip on Ray's hand. "When we heard you were awake we had to get in here as fast as we could. Sorry if we scared you." The black man stepped over to the opposite side of the bed, Charlie offering his chair. He took it with a smile of thanks.

"Where did Felicia go?" Ray asked as Egon silently joined him and Winston took Peter's other hand, Janine positioning herself at his side.

"I believe she went to inform the doctor that Peter had awakened," Egon explained, his pale blue eyes never leaving Peter's face.

"Egon, he doesn't remember," the redhead said softly, gazing up at the tall blond.

"So Felicia said. It may just be temporary, an aftereffect of the energy drain he experienced," the physicist said calmly.

Charlie looked sharply at the man he knew his son considered his best friend, at first unable to see past the unruffled facade. Then he looked at the other three and saw the sympathetic understanding. With another look at the bespectacled man, the elder Venkman saw the rigid wall, the protection from the loss of control over his emotions that Egon was so close to experiencing. He knew then he had made the right choice, that the love these people felt for Peter would be the beacon that brought him back completely. He also knew there was no way he could just watch and do nothing, not when it was his son involved. So he silently made his way to the door and slipped out into the hall, tears filling his eyes for the first time in a long time as he hurried to find some place to be alone.

* * *

"Did the three of you even go back to your motel last night?" Doctor Brett Stephens asked as he walked up to the dozing Egon, Janine, and Winston in the waiting room the next morning.

"No, we didn't, not after Pete wouldn't let go of Ray's hand. We figured we'd better be on call," Winston answered before yawning.

"Thank you for allowing Ray to stay with Peter last night," Egon said gratefully as he shifted his shoulders slightly to get the kinks out. "We appreciate it more than we can say."

Stephens nodded. "You're more than welcome. Peter would have been far too stressed any other way. I just stopped by here before doing my rounds to make sure you were all right. You seemed pretty shaken up when I got there." He sighed. "There's nothing like getting interrupted in the middle of a first date. We'd just ordered dinner."

"I hear you there," Winston sympathized with a grin. "I can completely relate."

"I bet you can." Dark hazel eyes did a once-over on the three of them. "You do realize your theory is probably correct, don't you? This memory loss is most likely temporary. I've seen it happen before when someone with a concussion first wakes up. And I have no idea what the effects could be when you add in the aftermath of a spiritual energy drain - that's more your area of expertise. All in all, Peter could easily wake up this morning and be back to normal, right as rain. You can't give up hope."

"We haven't," Egon replied with a small smile. "But thank you. We needed to hear that."

"No kidding," Janine agreed.

"Glad to have been of service." The doctor grinned. "You know, now after having experienced my own brush with the supernatural, I have to say I find it even more fascinating than I did before. I even believe in it more. I wish I had more time to just sit and listen to you guys tell stories. I bet you've got some doozies."

Winston laughed. "That, m'man, is an understatement. But if you ever get to New York when this is all over, stop by Ghostbuster Central. Ray at the very least would be more than happy to talk your ear off about everything we've seen."

"I might have to do that." Stephens chuckled a bit. "Well, I think I've killed all the time I can. I'll talk to you soon." He gave the three of them a nod and left the waiting room.

"I like that man," Winston said once the doctor had departed. "Too bad he's not practicing in New York. I bet we could even get Pete to see him."

"Quite possibly you are correct, Winston. He has been very helpful during our stay here. I only hope we haven't gotten him in trouble with the administration."

The other man laughed. "Egon, I'm willing to bet good money that Doctor Stephens is more than capable of getting into trouble all on his own without any help from us. Reminds me of Pete that way. But at least it's for the right reasons. I'm just hoping that Ray's doing all right in that room with the two powder kegs."

"From everything I witnessed last night, it appears that is no longer a concern. Felicia and Charlie actually appeared to agree on summoning us." Egon couldn't help but smile. "I suppose that says something about where Peter came by his temper and wide stubborn streak."

Janine snorted in amusement and returned the expression. "No doubt about it." She sighed, her expression not changing. "It's amazing how much easier it is to be relaxed now that Peter's out of that coma, isn't it? It's like I haven't been able to really laugh since you called me to tell me what had happened."

"Nor have I," the blond agreed. "But I won't be able to relax completely until I'm sure about his memory. And Ray needs him whole as well, so he no longer has to live with unnecessary guilt."

"Yeah, Pete's gotta fix that one," Winston said with a nod. "I tried talking to him about it a couple of nights ago, but it didn't do a whole lot of good. He's convinced he should have said something to Peter about Felicia being his grandmother, that he had no right to keep that secret. I don't think it would have made a difference, but he does." He shook his head in concerned exasperation.

"It most likely wouldn't have. In fact, it could have been detrimental to our cause. Unfortunately, I believe Peter is the only one who can convince Ray of that. Now we just have to hope he recovers soon to do it." The black man silently nodded his agreement, and the two of them and Janine sat back to wait to find out what would happen when Peter woke up.

* * *

Inside Peter's room, Ray sat at the sleeping man's bedside holding his hand like he had when Peter had first awakened. The psychologist had only let him go twice briefly to go to the bathroom, and was restless until Ray took up his hand again. Felicia had managed to get another chair and now sat to the redhead's right, while Charlie continued to sit across the bed from them, both returning at their usual time in the morning. "How are you doing, Ray?" Felicia asked gently, noticing the younger man wake up from a light doze.

Light brown eyes blinked with dissipating grogginess while he turned his head to face her. "A little stiff, but I'll be all right. I just want him to wake up and remember me."

"I'm sure he will, if not right now then eventually. He loves you too much to forget you forever."

Ray gave her a small smile. "Thanks for being here. I needed to hear that."

The older woman gave him a soft smile of her own. "I did, too."

"Well," the stout man said with a glance at his watch, "at least he's not off his normal schedule. He's usually asleep at nine-thirty in the morning." His attempt to sound cheerful fell a little flat, but the others were kind enough not to mention it.

Felicia gave him a sympathetic look and stood, stretching. "I'm too old to sit in this chair. I'm going to go stretch my legs, maybe talk to Egon and Winston and get to know Janine a little better. I'll be back in a little while, all right?" She placed a gentle hand on Ray's shoulder. He nodded, and she left the room.

Charlie watched Ray carefully after his mother left, and after another fifteen minutes got up himself. "I think I might check out what they have to offer in the cafeteria. You want anything, Ray?" he asked in his gravelly voice, tired from his long vigil.

"No, I'm okay for now," the engineer replied softly before lifting his head to look at his friend's father. "You don't have to go if you don't want to."

The older man smiled. "You've been hanging around Peter too long if I'm that obvious. Either that or I'm losing my touch." He paused while he considered it briefly. "Nah, it's Peter," he concluded.

Ray laughed at that. "Seriously, you don't have to go. I don't want to make you think you have to."

"You're not. It just occurred to me that we haven't let any of you boys or the lovely Miss Janine have any time alone with Peter since he got here. I thought maybe it was time you did." Charlie shrugged. "And I could use some breakfast. Are you sure you don't need anything?"

"I'll get something when Peter wakes up."

"Okay, then. I'll talk to you later." With that, Charlie walked out and headed down to the cafeteria.

"Well, Peter," Ray said to the one remaining occupant in the room, "it looks like it's just you and me. And if you'd wake up, I wouldn't be alone." The upbeat tone faltered and the man's lower lip began to tremble. "Please wake up and remember me, Peter. Although I wouldn't blame you if you didn't. I knew Felicia was your grandmother before we started the ritual to break the blood bond. I knew, and I didn't tell you. I need a chance to tell you I'm sorry, that I know I shouldn't have kept a secret like that from you. Please, Peter." His head fell into the crook of his arm on the mattress and he began to cry.

It took the second squeeze of his hand and the fleeting touch of fingertips across the top of his head to finally rouse Ray enough to lift his tear-stained face. Peter lay there watching him, concern in the emerald green depths. "Am I dying?" he asked, a touch of fear in his tone.

"No, Peter, of course not," Ray reassured him quickly, returning a squeeze. "The doctor said you should be just fine as soon as you woke up."

The brown-haired man nodded. "Okay, so why are you testing the absorbency of my sheets?"

"Well, I..." Ray hesitated before hurrying on through the rest of the Readers' Digest version of his apology. "I wanted to say I was sorry but you've been out of it so long and I wasn't sure I'd ever get the chance."

Peter blinked as he absorbed the rapidly spoken confession. "What in the world do you need to be sorry for, Tex?" He looked around the room as Ray gasped in surprise, quickly taking stock of his surroundings. His eyes grew wide. "Where are Egon and Winston? Are they okay? Is that why you're so upset?"

"They're fine, Peter. They're in the waiting room with Janine," Ray quickly reassured the agitated man, a grin blossoming on his features. "You really remember me?"

Confusion transformed Peter's expression. "Yeah. Is there some reason I shouldn't?" He thought for a moment. "Oh, hey, wait. I did get a decent knock on the head, didn't I?" His brows furrowed suspiciously. "How long has it been since we took out Trevaire? How long have I been out?"

Ray did some quick math. "I think this is the seventh day."

"I was in a coma?"

The younger man nodded. "You woke up last night for a little while, but you didn't remember anyone. I'm just glad you stayed. We weren't sure you would." He stood and leaned over the supine man, gathering him up into a fierce embrace.

Peter returned it, sensing Ray's need. "And just where do you think I could go that you and Egon couldn't find me? And knowing you two mad scientists you'd make me pay for the attempt." The two of them held on for a little while longer. "I heard you," he finally whispered. "I knew I had to stay for you guys. You all sounded so scared."

"What about your dad and Felicia?" Ray asked innocently, honestly curious.

Peter raised his eyebrows as Ray lowered him gently back to his pillows. "I don't really know Felicia and I don't want to talk about my dad yet. When I concentrate I can remember hearing them, and they always sounded so mad. But when I heard the fear in your voice, and in Egon's and Winston's and Janine's, I couldn't let go. I'm just glad they gave me the time I needed."

"So you know about what the Deckers did for you?" Excitement came back to Ray's tone.

"Yeah, but there's something else on your mind." Peter's eyes narrowed. "You were crying for a reason. What exactly are you so desperate to apologize to me for? I can't think of anything you've done that would need that."

Ray bit his bottom lip as he gathered his courage. "I knew, Peter. I knew before we fought Trevaire. I'm so sorry."

"You knew what?"

"Felicia's your grandmother."

Peter sighed. "And when did you find out?"

"The night before, while I was doing my rounds after Trevaire left. I found a picture of your parents and Felicia confirmed it." The occultist couldn't keep up eye contact.

"So how long did she know?" The psychologist's voice was neutral.

"She said she didn't know for sure until she saw my reaction to the clipping, although she suspected before that. I think she might have started thinking about it once you introduced yourself. She was serious when she said she hadn't talked to her son since he left, and she never tried to track him down, wanting to find out about his life only if he'd let her in. I believe her, Peter." He still wouldn't look up.

"What did you say to her after you knew?"

"We talked about it and decided you might be too upset to deal with Trevaire if she said anything right away. But I made her promise to tell you as soon as possible afterward. She said she would. It just... never happened, I guess." Ray swallowed nervously. "I shouldn't have just made her promise, Peter. I should have told you myself, or made her do it right when you woke up. I was out of line keeping that information from you. We're talking about your _family_. I know how important family is to you."

"Yeah, you do," Peter agreed softly as he found the controls for his bed and brought the head of it to a more upright position. "And it is, very much so. That's why you're so important to me, Ray. You're family. Do you know what my reaction was when I found out later that day?"

The unexpected question brought the redhead's face up, his light brown eyes meeting sparkling green ones. "No, I was fighting Trevaire and casting the spell that would break the last bond between him and the Decker line. I remember hearing Felicia call out something about not losing her grandson, but I don't know what happened afterward."

"If my dad hadn't grabbed my wrist, I would have fallen a lot sooner than I did. I was shocked. And Dad might have been angry with Felicia, but he didn't deny what she said. I dangled there useless. Not long after that, Trevaire bounced on the both of them to make them let go, and I tumbled down the ravine. I didn't really have time to react, although I thought things through a bit after I woke up after the fall." Peter gave his friend a rueful smirk. "I can just imagine what I would have done if I'd known that morning. With enough time to brood about it, I would have been angry at the world, and useless to you when it came time to get things done. Well," he corrected himself wryly, "maybe not useless, but definitely not at a hundred percent. And I couldn't have afforded anything less. When you agreed to let Felicia wait to tell me, you did the right thing, Ray. How can I be mad at you over that?"

Ray's expression turned wistful. "You're really not mad at me?"

"You, no. Felicia, not really. But Pop... that's another can of worms altogether." A dark glint came into Peter's eyes at that pronouncement.

"Don't be too mad at him, Peter. He really was worried about you, and it really bothered him when he realized that you wouldn't respond to his voice. He begged you to come back after Hans Decker left, but you only calmed down after Egon, Winston, Janine, and I started talking to you. It hurt him, Peter." Ray spoke very earnestly, his eyes shining with sincerity.

A sigh escaped Peter's throat. "I don't doubt it did, Ray. But that doesn't excuse him from not telling me about my grandmother." He reached out and took Ray's hand. "Tell me you're not feeling guilty anymore, okay, Tex? Because if you are, you're feeling guilty for keeping my best interests at heart, and I'd hate to hear you were doing that. Are you okay?"

The engineer grinned under that caring, scrutinizing gaze. "I'm better now, Peter. That really is why I did what I did, and you understand. That makes it okay. Should I get Egon and Winston and Janine? They've been really worried about you, too."

Before Peter could respond, Doctor Stephens came into the room. "Ah, Doctor Venkman, you're awake," he said, giving Ray a wink. The redhead blushed at the reminder of the way he had indignantly corrected the doctor the second time he had referred to Peter as "Mister Venkman". "How are you feeling?"

"I'm doing just fine, doc. Better than I expected to be when I passed out last at any rate. And my memory's intact, too. Ray told me I had a bout with amnesia last night." Peter watched the newcomer carefully, Ray recognizing the wariness in the look.

"That you did. But I was pretty sure it was temporary. Thanks for not proving me wrong." He grinned and took up the chart at the end of the bed and checked the monitors. "Why don't you go out to the waiting room, Ray, and let the others know about Peter? I'll try to finish my examination and let you guys in to see him as soon as possible."

Ray grinned. "Thanks, Doctor Stephens. I'll see you in a little while, okay, Peter?"

"You bet, Ray. Keep those three worry-warts out of trouble until then, all right?"

"You got it, Peter. See you then." He gave one last wave near the door and left.

"This isn't going to take all that long, is it?" Peter asked the doctor as the man came over to him and started checking his responses.

"Probably not, but you never can tell. I wouldn't want to not cross a 't' or miss dotting an 'i'." Brett clamped his mouth shut and focused on the monitor he moved over to with his clipboard in hand.

Peter's eyes narrowed. "So what else is bugging you about this?" he asked casually.

The doctor turned a somewhat startled look on his patient. "You know, I'm pretty sure Ray told me this when he had me calling you Doctor Venkman, but what are those two doctorates in again?"

The brown-haired man grinned. "That would be parapsychology and psychology, doc. I'm more than just a high-profile exterminator."

The other man just shook his head. "So I can see, although I already suspected as much. Ray walked out of here in better spirits than I've seen him in all week. And I'm pretty sure you'll be working more miracles like that before you're done today."

"That's me, a miracle worker. But don't change the subject. What's eating you?"

Hazel met emerald green and the physician sighed. "The administration has been talking about giving me a disciplinary review when you've checked out, Doctor Venkman. They don't care for the way I've handled your case. I don't care for the way their rules stifle the way I deal with my patients and their loved ones. We're at an impasse, and since they're in charge, I'm bound to lose."

"How'd you stretch the rules for me?" Peter asked curiously.

"I let your friends and family see you before and slightly past visiting hours, as well as made sure the other Ghostbusters were kept up to date regarding your progress. That's to say nothing about letting Ray stay with you overnight last night when you wouldn't let go of his hand. I haven't made our extremely conservative administration very happy over this past week." Stephens gave the psychologist a rueful look.

Peter's expression softened. "Well, no matter how much trouble you get into, just know that I really appreciate what you've done for me and my friends. They mean the world to me, and it had to be rough on them dealing with this. You made it as easy as you could for them, and there's nothing I can do to pay you back for that. You're a good man, Doctor Stephens." He smiled. "And you can call me Peter."

"Thanks, Peter. What you just said means more to me than satisfying anybody in the administration. And it proves that you've definitely improved. I should only have to keep you here for a day or two longer for observation, and then I can cut you loose. And then we'll see what happens." The doctor smiled back. "Let me get these results into your permanent file. I'll send in the others when I'm done. I'll talk to you later."

"You bet, doc. And thanks again." Peter watched the other man go then sank deeper into his pillows to snooze away the wait.

* * *

Peter was sleeping again when Egon, Ray, Janine, and Winston entered the room. The psychologist shifted slightly on his pillow as they drew near. "Figures," Winston said with a smile. "Far be it from Pete to pass up a chance to sleep for as long as he wants to."

"Definitely a significant reminder of why we refuse to allow such behavior at home," Egon agreed, the corners of his mouth twitching upward as well.

"Not that it stops him from trying to get away with it at every opportunity," Janine added with a smirk.

Ray grinned even as he defended his friend. "Oh, come on, guys. Doctor Stephens said he'd be lacking a little in energy for the next day or so. Don't give him such a hard time."

"At least one of you has a sympathetic bone in his body," Peter murmured without opening his eyes. "I'd like to see you get almost completely drained by a demon, sit around in a coma for a week, then hop up and do a jig as soon as you snap out of it." One eye popped open and looked at his visitors. "Well, Ray probably could. The Energizer Bunny never quits."

"You got a point there, Pete." Winston stepped over and mussed the brown locks, most of which draped over the bandage that still wound around his head. "How you doing, homeboy?" he asked as Peter frowned and tried to straighten his 'do.

"Fine until you messed up my hair," the patient grumbled. A couple more swipes of his hand had everything mostly in place, and he turned his attention to his friends. "How about you guys? I know I put you through one hell of a scare."

"True. And I know we've admonished you numerous times in the past not to do such things." Egon came over and placed a firm hand on Peter's shoulder. "But we can only be relieved that you came through this all right."

A knowing look came over the brown-haired man's features. "You weren't sure I'd come back."

"That's not true, Peter," Ray contradicted as he circled the bed to take up a place on Peter's left side. "We knew you'd come back if we could just get you to hear us."

"But you didn't know if I'd hear you." The other four were silent. "I did, you know. I heard everything you said. I can't remember the exact words, but I knew you were there. I even knew Dad and Felicia were there."

"But you didn't come back right away," Ray protested, hurt in his voice. "And why didn't you remember anything when you woke up?"

Peter frowned as he considered it. "I couldn't come back right away; I wasn't strong enough. I poured a lot of myself into that battle, Tex, you know that. I needed a recharge. The Deckers were nice enough to give me the time. As for why I didn't remember... I... can't be sure."

"Hmm," Egon said, his pale brows furrowed as he also thought over the question. "I'm not entirely sure you were prepared to return when Hans left, Peter. Perhaps you weren't able to completely reconnect until you had reached a more acceptable level of energy."

"Are you saying Pete had just enough energy to take care of his body but not enough to make sure all the connections with his soul were in place?" Winston asked.

"Precisely. Which would explain why you were fully in charge of your faculties when you awoke this morning after a full night's rest. Well, as much as you usually are, anyway."

Peter grinned at Egon's attempt at humor, relieved that he could try. "Hey, I'm fully in control of myself, thank you very much." He ignored the snorts of disbelief as his smile softened. "Ray, you do know I wouldn't hurt you guys on purpose, right? If I could have come back sooner I would have. And I definitely never wanted to forget you. Who else would defend me from the big, bad barbs of these meanies over here?" He gestured toward Egon, Janine, and Winston.

Ray smiled at that, the hurt in his eyes fading. "I think you can more than defend yourself, Peter." He grabbed the psychologist and pulled him into a tight hug. "Thank you for coming back. We all needed you."

"Glad to be back, Tex," Peter murmured into the redhead's ear before being allowed to lean back on the upraised bed. He grinned. "And of course you needed me. Who doesn't need the incomparable Peter Venkman?"

"Is there enough room for me to fit in here with that ego?" a woman's voice called from the doorway.

"I think we can squeeze you in, Felicia," Janine replied with a grin to the silver-haired lady as she came in, letting the door shut behind her.

"And there's always oxygen nearby in case of emergencies," Egon added.

"Thanks, Spengs. Glad to know I can always count on you." Peter rolled his eyes. "How you doing, Felicia? Kill my dad yet?"

"I've considered it too many times to count over the past week," she responded wryly. "But I'm fine now. What about you?"

"Fine and dandy, as soon as I can find out when they're letting me out of here. I hate hospitals." He wrinkled his nose in disgust.

Felicia laughed. "I have to say I'm not overly fond of them either."

The other three Ghostbusters and Janine shared a look and moved as one for the door. "We'll leave the two of you alone for a while," Egon said when they reached it. "We'll be back later." The four of them left.

"Real subtle, Egon," Peter muttered as he stared after them. "I thought I taught you better than that." He sighed. "Where did you want to start?"

Felicia jumped a bit under that sharp green gaze. She took a moment to gather her wits. "I suppose I should start with an apology. I would have told you if I knew, Peter, I hope you know that. And once I did for sure, we had to deal with Trevaire..."

"I know all that," the psychologist interrupted gently. "Ray told me what happened the night before."

Her dark brown eyes flickered back and forth, taking in her grandson's features, noting the difference now that they were animated with conscious life. "I'm scared, Peter," she finally admitted. "I've waited so long for Charlie to come around, and he never has. And now it's like I have a second chance with you, but I'm not sure if I should dare to take it. I don't know if I could take you rejecting me like he did."

Peter's eyes closed as his face twisted briefly with a pain-filled expression. "I know it wasn't your fault I never knew you before," he said quietly. "I'm still dealing with finding out I have more family after all." The emerald greens opened and met her desperate gaze. "But I think I'm willing to get to know you. You're just going to have to cut me a little slack every now and again."

A beautiful smile bloomed on her features. "I think I can do that, as long as you're willing to do the same for me. I'm old, Peter, and I may not have too many years left, but having a connection to what family I have left is going to make them the best I've had in a long time. Thank you for being willing to take the chance on me."

A grin slowly formed on Peter's face as he watched the older woman. "It's the least I could do. I'm not the only one taking a chance here."

Felicia hesitated for a moment, then leaned over and hugged the man she gladly called family. "You've already shown me it'll be more than worth it. You've turned out to be a wonderful man, one I'm very proud of." She grinned as she straightened. "So when do I get any great-grandchildren?"

"Felicia!"

"I'm not young anymore, Peter. I'd like to know my line won't end with you." Her eyes sparkled with mirth. "And I'm pretty sure you'd make a great father."

He looked at her with exasperation, although his eyes sparkled in kind. "You know, if the guys were here they'd give you all kinds of reasons why I shouldn't reproduce."

"Oh, they wouldn't be serious. And there's got to be a special lady out there you'd want to share that experience with."

"Maybe, but I haven't found her yet. And the life I have is pretty special. I'm not sure I'm quite ready to give that up."

"If she's the right girl, you won't have to give up anything. But I can see your point. Those three men and that lovely lady are wonderful people, and I can only be glad you have them in your life. It's good to know you're being taken care of." Felicia smiled fondly at Peter.

He smiled back, a bit flustered. "Enough with the mushy stuff." The psychologist cleared his throat before continuing. "You know, I think there's a question I need to ask before things go any further."

The woman's expression became guarded. "What's that?"

The smile turned into a full-fledged grin. "Are there any more family curses I should know about? I'd hate to get back to New York just to have to turn around and come back."

They both laughed. "No, Peter. No more family curses. But I think I should leave you to your rest for a while. You look tired."

"I am a little. But you don't have to go if you don't want to."

"No, I think I will. I haven't had lunch yet. Go to sleep, Peter. I'll talk to you later." She leaned over and kissed his forehead, then gave him a wink and left the room.

It wasn't long after that when Charlie slipped inside. "Are you asleep, son?" he asked softly, hoping not to wake him if he was.

"No, Dad, I'm not," Peter replied emotionlessly as he opened his eyes. He had just started to doze off when his father spoke.

"Is everything okay with your friends? I saw them out in the waiting area by the nurses' station talking to your doctor."

"Everything's fine with them. What did you want, Pop?"

Charlie flinched from the dead tone Peter was using. "I was wondering if things were okay for us."

Peter finally turned his head from the contemplation of the bare white ceiling to gaze at his nervous father. His green eyes were dark with the emotion he hadn't allowed into his voice. "Do you understand how angry I am right now? How in the hell could you not tell me I had a grandmother alive and well in Nebraska? Even better, how in the hell could you walk away from your mother like you did?"

"She betrayed my father!" the older man snapped. "She went and loved someone else! It was pretty clear at that point how she had felt about my dad - couldn't have been much if she could be with another man."

"Would you listen to yourself? You sound like a little kid. I can understand feeling hurt to an extent, but not this much. Your mother loves you, loves you enough to face down a demon so you wouldn't have to. She loves you enough to not have interfered in your life when she thought that was what you wanted. She loves you enough to have waited ten years before moving on with her life. She loves you like Mom loved me - and you walked away." The psychologist glared hotly at the other man.

It was returned in a flash of fire. "Don't you dare bring Katherine into this! She's nothing like my mother! Nothing! She never betrayed me like that!"

A thoughtful glint joined the turmoil in Peter's emerald greens. "No, she didn't, did she? Hers was more like your father's. She died, going away forever, just like he did." He paused for a moment at Charlie's stricken and panicked look. "It was easier to transfer all that betrayal, all that hate, to your mom when she did something you never expected her to do, when she changed your world so completely. She had moved on when you hadn't. She left you behind. And since you hadn't gotten over anything, it all just grew until you couldn't take it anymore. So instead of dealing with it, you made your mother the focus of it all and walked away. You took the easy way out, Pop, and hurt a lot of people in the process."

"You can't hurt someone that shallow," was the weak rejoinder.

"She's not that shallow and you know it. But you refuse to admit it, because then you could be wrong. And if you're wrong, you'll have to deal with emotions almost fifty years old. They've had all this time to build up, twisting into things you'd never recognize or understand, and you don't think you could do it."

"Oh, stop playing shrink with me, Peter. You're way off base." The desperation Charlie was radiating was thick enough to cut with a knife.

"Shrink or not, I'm right on target. You've decided to hate your mother because she moved on and married someone else and you wouldn't have anyone to mourn with anymore. So, Pop, how am I supposed to react if you find someone else? Should I hate you for loving someone after Mom's been gone for so long? For finding someone to be happy with? For moving on and letting time heal whatever wounds Mom's dying caused?"

The elder Venkman stared at the younger with wide eyes for over a minute before blinking fiercely and swallowing the lump in his throat to gather his scattered wits. "It doesn't matter what you say, Peter. I know how I feel and I know the truth about my mother. Nothing's going to change that. If you're going to hold that against me, I guess I'll just have to live with that. I should get going." He turned to head for the door.

"Wait a minute, Pop," Peter called, frustrated, reaching a hand out as if to catch him, although he was out of range. "I may still be angry, but I'm not telling you to get out of my life. Give me some time."

Charlie had stopped walking but never turned around. "You're going to try to get to know her, aren't you?" he asked as emotionlessly as Peter had started the conversation.

"She's my grandmother, Dad. She's family. And I have a right to make my own opinion about her."

The standing man sighed. "I suppose you do at that, son. But I won't be around to watch. I can't. I'm going to get going, Peter. I've got some business that I had to put off when this whole thing started. I should probably get back to it now that I know you're going to be okay."

"Dad, please, just think about what I said, okay? I'm not doing this to spite you, and I don't want you to go away thinking that. I... I love you, Pop." Peter's volume dropped to barely audible with his last statement.

But Charlie heard the words. He turned around in surprise. "I know that, son, and I feel the same way. I just can't deal with my mother; the wound's too deep. So I'm going to go. For you, I'll think about it, okay? But I'm not promising anything. See you around, Peter." He smiled and left after it had been returned, however weakly.

Peter let his head flop back onto his pillow after the door closed behind his dad. His eyes were squeezed shut. "That could have gone better," he muttered darkly to himself.

A little bit later the door opened again to let in Ray who moved quickly to the bed. "How did everything go with your dad?" he asked, curious and concerned. "I saw him come in, and then he stopped to say goodbye on his way out just a minute ago."

"Oh, Ray, he's just like a little kid. He never got over his dad dying, and he transferred the hurt feelings to Felicia when she married Jerry. I told him so, and he said he'd think about what I'd said, but this is my dad we're talking about. I'm not gonna hold my breath." Peter let loose a deep breath and gave Ray a rueful smile.

"Probably not a good idea. But at least he said he'd try. That's something, isn't it?"

"We'll see, Tex. We'll see." The psychologist yawned then sagged further into the pillow and sheets. "Wow, I never thought talking could be this tiring."

Ray laughed. "Only for you, Peter. You do it too much. But this time I think you had to. Go ahead and sleep. We'll be here when you wake up."

"Where are Egon and Winston and Janine?"

"Finishing up talking to Doctor Stephens. He says if your tests tomorrow morning turn out all right, you'll be able to leave the day after."

Peter sighed as his eyelids drooped. "If only I could cram for those things like I did in college. I really want out of here."

"You always do. Sleep, Peter. You won't be alone." Peter just nodded and drifted off. Ray pulled up a chair and smiled at his slumbering friend. Yeah, everything was going to be okay now that Doctor Venkman was back on the job. Everything was going to be just fine.

* * *

The rest of the day went by uneventfully, ending with Peter's friends and Felicia returning to their motel to get a good night's rest. They came back the next morning just as visiting hours started, running into Doctor Stephens soon after he had come into Peter's room to let him know the results of that morning's tests. "Hey, guys," Peter greeted his friends. "Vlad here is finally finished with me and decided to fill me in on what he knows." He turned a twinkling gaze to the amused physician. "Now that we're all here, doc, go ahead."

"I was just going to tell you that you came up clean," Stephens said with a wide smile. "That means we're turning you loose tomorrow morning. You should like that."

"You have no idea," Peter agreed.

"Why can't he go today?" Felicia asked curiously.

"We just want one more day of observation. It's nothing to be alarmed about."

"And one more day of avoiding the administration, huh, doc?" Winston added with a smirk.

"Well, that too," Stephens said shamelessly with a shrug. Everyone laughed.

* * *

The day went by as uneventfully as the one before. First thing in the morning, Egon went back to the ranch with Felicia to pick up their equipment and get it ready for transport once Peter was cleared to go, the others heading to the hospital. They returned just before the end of that evening's visiting hours, Egon joining Winston, Janine, and Ray not long before the three of them were going to leave for the night, and Felicia deciding to go straight back to the motel. "We'll be here in the morning to pick you up and take you to the airport," the blond physicist told Peter as he rose to his feet. "All the arrangements are made, and our equipment has been successfully retrieved from Felicia's ranch."

Peter's eyebrows rose. "You mean you're storing all those gizmos with you in one motel room? You guys are gluttons for punishment."

"Tell me about it," Winston agreed. "Fortunately, Janine offered to store some of it in her room or we'd be showering with the aura spectrometer."

"I should've said no," Janine said with a smile. "I would have loved to see that."

"Oh, it wouldn't be that bad," Ray corrected. "We'd just have to be a lot more careful about where we walked, that's all. We wouldn't have had to use the bathroom."

The black man scoffed. "I wouldn't go that far, Ray. The place we've got isn't exactly the lap of luxury," Winston refuted.

"The discussion of storage space aside, is there anything else you needed before we left for the evening, Peter?" Egon asked, cutting off any further debate.

"Thanks anyway, Spengs, but I think I'll be fine. Think I'll just drift off and let tomorrow morning come all the quicker. I can't wait to go home." Peter smiled.

Ray grinned, reaching out and squeezing the brown-haired man's hand. "I can't either. But what about Felicia?"

The psychologist looked his younger friend in the eye and said seriously, "We talked yesterday and cleared a few things up. We'll be keeping in touch. But I want to go _home_."

"Then we'll be here to bust you out in the morning, Pete. For now, go to sleep and quit your bitching." Winston grinned and gave the other man a wink, laughing when Peter gave him a raspberry in return.

"See you tomorrow, Peter!" Ray enthused as he led the way to the door, Winston right behind him.

"Sleep well, Peter. And enjoy it while you can. You've already used up all your pampering time." Egon gave him a small smile that was his equivalent of a Cheshire grin, his pale blue eyes sparkling as he turned to go, Janine just in front of him.

"Heartless! You guys are heartless!" Peter called after them, trying not to laugh. Once the door had closed behind the others, he shook his head and settled in for the night.

Outside in the hall, Ray turned to face Egon. "I thought you said you weren't going to warn him about the pampering?" the redheaded man asked, amused.

"Consider it his last dose," the blond replied.

"Let's get back to the motel, guys. I'm thinking Pete has the right idea - the sooner we get to bed, the sooner our stay at that doll house will be over." Winston started herding the two scientists and their secretary toward the elevator.

They hadn't gotten three steps away from the door when Egon's PKE meter - that had been turned on upon their arrival out of instinct built up over the past week - started blaring an alarm. The physicist snatched it up and read the display. "I'm reading a strong Class Four coming from Peter's room. It looks familiar."

"We better get back in there just to be safe," Ray said quickly, worry coloring his tone.

The four of them burst back into Peter's room, Egon silencing his meter, just as a glowing light on the opposite side of the bed coalesced into a definite human form. Peter himself spared his friends a quick glance at their arrival and turned back to the odd occurrence. "Do you think one of you could explain to me what the hell is going on?" the psychologist threw back at them, agitation strong in his voice.

"I will explain presence myself," the ghostly figure said, his low tenor and broken English familiar. "I wished to return one last time to thank you for actions in regard to demon Trevaire." He looked over at the other Ghostbusters and Janine. "I suppose is quite appropriate that you have returned for this," he said to them. "It was Peter's love for you that gave him strength to continue against such dismal odds."

"Hey, let's not remind Doctor Venkman just how close he came, all right? I don't need any nightmares."

A smile formed on the transparent figure's face. "I apologize, Peter. I came to express gratitude, not distress you. I am honored to have you as descendant, Peter Charles Venkman. You have done great honor by your family, and it will not be forgotten."

Peter looked distinctly uncomfortable with the praise. "Yeah, well, I just did what needed to be done, that's all. I'm glad I could help."

"That's what Peter always does, Mister Decker," Egon added, stepping over to the horizontal man's bedside.

"He always comes through when we need him. Egon's got it right. Pete's definitely a guy you want behind you when the going gets tough. You couldn't have picked a better man." Winston grinned at the desperate look he got from his brown-haired friend, obviously wanting them to stop, but the glint in his emerald green eyes grateful all the same.

"Gosh, yeah," Ray agreed joining the other two next to Peter. "He may not always show it, but he's got a huge heart and always does what's right when it counts."

"Even if he may get on your nerves otherwise," Janine added, completing the set by the bed. "You can always count on Doctor V."

"You guys..." Much to the others' surprise, Peter actually began to blush.

Hans laughed. "It says much when people one is closest to can say such things. I can only be glad you were fortunate enough to find these people, people you consider in your heart of hearts your family. I know that connections with blood relations are incomplete and some still unclear. That you have family of choice near at hand is great gift."

"I know," Peter said quietly. "I'm reminded of that on a regular basis." He shot his standing friends a look filled with deep but quickly hidden emotion as he turned back to the ghost at his other side.

"There is only one last thing I wished to share before I go. While I assisted you to return to your family, you assisted me to be completely reunited with mine. I know you read diary, so let me introduce my sons." A soft glow formed on either side of the Decker patriarch, quickly firming into a small boy of about ten years and an older man at least ten years older than the people that witnessed their arrival. "I believe you already spoke with son Gerritt." The older man bowed, a small smile on his face. "And this is my eldest, Johann."

The boy grinned and grabbed Peter's hand, the warmth of his expression counteracting the cold of his ectoplasmic touch. "Thank you for freeing my papa," the young voice said gratefully. "I've missed him for all these years, and so did my mama. We both love him so much."

Peter smiled gently at him. "I'm glad I could help, Johann. He's a good man, and I know he loves you both just as much." The boy just grinned and nodded, then released the hand he held and stepped back to his father's side.

"I would also like to join my thanks with my father's," Gerritt said, also smiling. "You were quick to realize the meaning of my addition to my father's diary. Not many of the others did so until after their deaths."

Peter shrugged. "It just explained the weird feeling I was getting, like I was surrounded by a crowd of people. Tex here's the one who drove the point home." He gestured toward Ray, who looked thoroughly shocked.

"Me? What did I do?"

The psychologist turned a tender smile toward the occultist. "You reminded me I wasn't alone when I needed to hear it. Which reminds me, when we get home we are going to have to have a serious talk about your timing, all of you. You didn't miss your second cue, but that first one really needed some work."

"I'm not going to ask, Peter. You'd probably explain, and I don't believe I have any aspirin left to deal with the resulting headache." Egon lifted a blond eyebrow and gave his friend a look one part fondness, one part amusement, and one part exasperation.

The Deckers laughed at the exchange. "I am pleased you have all recovered from your ordeal," Hans said. "But now we must be going. Thank you again, Peter. We will never forget what you have done for us. Farewell for now." The three ghosts faded away, leaving the five friends alone in the hospital room.

"Now that was an experience," Winston said, a touch of awe in his tone. "It's not often we get thanked by ghosts for what we do."

"Peter deserved it," Ray said loyally. "He did a great job defeating Trevaire. And the idea of combining the energy at the proton pack's power source was ingenious!"

Peter smirked at that. "That's me, a certifiable genius."

"Or just certifiable," Egon said quashingly, an eyebrow raised once again.

"Hey, now. Let's not insult Doctor Venkman. I'm the hero of the day, remember?"

"That day was over a week ago, Peter. Let's not push our luck."

"Oh, come on, Spengs. Cut me some slack. I was totally out of it for most of that time. Are you trying to tell me that because I was in a coma I have to miss out on all the glory that comes with breaking a centuries-old family curse?"

Egon pondered that for a moment. "Yes," he said finally. "That's precisely what I'm saying." His eyes glittered with merriment.

Peter frowned. "That's it. Get out of here. I'm going to sleep. It's the only way I'll be safe from all this abuse."

"Well, at least until tomorrow," Winston corrected as Ray and Janine laughed.

"Come along, gentlemen, Janine," Egon said, gesturing the others toward the door. "Let us leave Doctor Venkman to his sulking. Perhaps he'll have it out of his system by tomorrow. We can only hope, at any rate."

"You watch it, Spengler. If you think I'm sulking now, you just wait. You haven't seen anything yet."

"Good night, Peter." The door closed, muffling the laughter of the four exiting people. Peter stared at the door for a few moments longer, letting a wide smile transform his features. His friends were the greatest. But that didn't mean they didn't deserve retaliation for that display. He fell asleep brainstorming on that very subject.

* * *

It was Peter's turn to be antsy the next day as the four Ghostbusters, Janine Melnitz, and Felicia Atkinson waited for the flight to New York to be announced. "What time is it now?" Peter asked, hopping out of his seat for the tenth time since they finally got him to sit.

"About five minutes since you asked last time, Pete. Now sit down before you give us motion sickness. Not to mention re-sprain your ankle." Winston crossed his arms over his chest and gave the pacing man a stern look.

"I have my cane. Besides," the psychologist asked with an impish smile as he managed to stop in his tracks and bounce a bit on his left foot, "didn't you take your Dramamine?"

"I'm hoping to keep the medicine working for the flight, not use it up beforehand."

"Really, Peter, why are you having such difficulty keeping still?" Egon asked.

"I've been in bed for over a week not counting bathroom runs, Spengs. I'm enjoying being vertical."

"That's fair enough," Ray chimed in, smiling. "I'd probably be the same way in his shoes."

"You are even when you aren't," Peter told him, grinning.

Felicia laughed at the scene before her. "You all are something else, do you know that?" She stood, shaking her head. "Here, Peter, take this." She handed her grandson a small notebook. "My address and phone number are on the first page. I figured it would be harder to lose a whole notebook than a piece of paper."

That calmed the brown-haired man down. He smiled at the older woman gently. "Thanks, Felicia. I'll definitely be using this." He pulled out his wallet and handed her one of the business cards stored inside. "I think you'll be okay with this."

She smiled and nodded. "I think so, too."

Peter chuckled and opened the notebook after slipping the wallet back in his pocket. A confused look crossed his features. "Um, Felicia, not to be rude or anything, but why did you give me a Manhattan address and number? You live in Nebraska."

It was the silver-haired lady's turn to give an impish grin. "Didn't I tell you? I spoke with my step-daughter yesterday and worked everything out. She's practically been running the ranch as it was, and I was intending on leaving her the property in my will. But since I still have the apartment Jerry and I own in New York for when we would come and visit the boys and a very valuable reason to use it on a more regular basis, we worked something out so she can take over the ranch completely now. Rachel's always loved that place anyway, and her kids do, too, and I'm just wallowing in old, bittersweet memories there. I think it's time I made some new memories, don't you think?"

Egon, Ray, Janine, and Winston grinned as they watched a joyous light flare up in Peter's eyes at the pronouncement. "That's great, Felicia! When are you moving?"

"As soon as I can get everything settled. I'm not sure when, but I'll be sure to let you know." She smiled fondly at the brown-haired man.

The smile Peter wore flickered slightly as an old fear rose up in his emerald greens. "You promise?" he asked, a small waver only noticeable to his friends.

Her smile grew. "Of course, Peter. I promise to let you know as soon as I'm sure of a date. You can count on me."

He reached out and pulled the older lady into a hug. "I hope so," he breathed, no one catching the words.

The flight to New York was announced as the two of them broke apart. "Well, that's your flight. I won't keep you any longer." Felicia's smile dimmed a bit. "It'll be dull here without you boys to liven things up."

"But you're coming to New York, so we'll just make up for everything then," Ray announced. He bounced a bit before capturing the woman in a hug of his own.

"You bet we will, Ray," she said amidst her laughter as they separated, the redheaded man quickly replaced by Winston.

"You take care of yourself, lady," the black man admonished gently. "You've got a boy out there thinking about you, and the rest of us are, too."

"I know, and I will. You all had better do the same, or I may have to hurt you."

"It was wonderful getting to meet you," Janine said as the redheaded woman took her turn at an embrace.

"And you as well," Felicia returned, giving the younger woman an extra squeeze.

Egon stood there awkwardly after Janine backed away from the small woman. "It was a great pleasure to meet you, Felicia, and I'm pleased we were able to help you. I'm looking forward to when you come to Manhattan," the blond said politely, sounding only a little bit stiff.

Felicia grinned. "I don't want to say goodbye, either, Egon. But it's only temporary." She stepped over to him and took the physicist into a quick hug.

The second call came over the intercom at that point, and the fivesome hurried to catch their flight. At the last moment, Peter rushed back and gave his grandmother one last embrace. "Thank you, Grandma," he whispered into her ear and he started to take off to catch up with his friends, skipping every few steps to take the weight off his injured ankle.

"For what?" she called after him, looking pleased but confused.

"Faith!" was the hollered reply as he nearly ran into the waiting Egon. The older woman's laughter followed the two of them as the blond man helped the psychologist along to their gate.

"So, all's well that ends well, huh, Peter? As well as can be expected anyway," Ray asked, grinning happily as the five of them joined the dwindling line to board their plane.

Peter looked at the redheaded engineer, as well as Winston, Janine, and Egon, and grinned, feeling the satisfied sense of family, a sensation that had just grown to include one more. "You betcha, Tex. There's not much that could top this." They all shared a knowing look, one that acknowledged that they all understood where Peter was coming from, and boarded the plane to return to New York and the home that waited for them there.

The End


End file.
